Tomorrow is another day

Sometimes LIFE is wierd.

Sometimes it's confusing.

Sometimes it doesn't seem worth it. The living part.

I get it. The drudgery of "LIFE".

And we, in this country, don't always have the luxury of survival mode. In other countries - in other cities - things are so difficult that people kick into survival mode and just MAKE IT THROUGH. They  try to feed their kids. They do not question what they have. There is no bigger question than "Will I live another day?" or "Will my children live another day?"

I have been lucky. I had my first child when I was so young. And like so many well educated young Western children - if I hadn't had my first child when I wasn't old enough to legally drink - I may not have made it. I may have questioned things too seriously. It might have hurt too much. It HAS hurt too much. But I have not had the option of checking out. As an adult, I have always had another person to worry about. Another person to feed. Another person to love, and another person to love me.

I read "Gone with the Wind" when I was 15. Or maybe 14. I loved it so much. I loved Scarlett O'Hara. Even though she was an anti-hero. The point I took away from the book was that women were taught that LOVE was an entirely different thing than SEX. And SEX was evil. Women who wanted sex or were sexually attracted to men were evil. LOVE was taught to be a religious thing. A holy thing wrapped into matrimony and children  - a thing women were not allowed to enjoy. The slavery aspect of "Gone with the Wind" seemed to me secondary and - (different from the movie) - I did not take away the idea that the novel idealized it - but rather made fun of the notion that so many Southern folk idealized the concept. Made it romantic when it was actually diabolical. I thought there was a parallel drawn between slavery and marriage. Which - I can see as well as any other human - is a bit overwrought and exaggerated (clearly slavery being much, much worse than marriage  - not exactly parallel) - but if one were to go down that road of thought - Scarlett was an awesome anti-hero. Using marraige to her advantage financially (using the institution that 'enslaved' so many women), but saving her plantation and her family in the process. And, ultimately, realizing her very,very flawed idea of romantic love. Whether or not it's too late for Scarlett - we are left to wonder. Whether or not she deserves redemtion at all - is also a good question. But in the face of sexist repression, in a world where Scarlett's waistline is more important than any thought in her head, she at least proves herself self reliant and resourceful. She delivers the difficult baby of the woman who is married to the man she thinks she loves - and rescues her,  her baby and young Prissy through war and fire, then proceeds to do any and everything to save her family and their land.

SURVIVAL.

THAT'S what I admired about Scarlett. She was a survivor.
How many times have I quoted to myself, "After all, tomorrow is another day.."

I am on the other side of young now. Thank goodness. And I can tell you from experience that tomorrow IS another day. No matter HOW crappy today might be - tomorrow might just be the best day EVER. REALLY.

Sometimes it takes a few days to crawl out to the the other side of rotten - but you never know. Sometimes tomorrow can surprise you in the best sense - IF YOU LET IT.

And sometimes we all have to believe in the future when our 'now' is too painful to believe in or accept.

4 am..

...can't sleep. I've been really sick and I need to. Been tossing and turning for hours. Maybe some 'Sleepy Time' tea will do the trick.
 It's hot here now. Still and muggy. My Mom used to joke and say "It's the Vietgong". She's not far off.
I need to work at 10 am tomorrow, and I'm in the tortured vice-grip of my worried brain.

WHY did I ever think I wanted to fall in love again? WHY??????? You'd think I'd be done with that by now. Hurt enough, stomped on enough, taken advantage of enough, lied to enough.
But hope keeps rearing it's bastard little head inside of me. "Maybe this time it will be different, the romantic six year old inside of me whispers to the guarded, older me. She's SIX! WHY does she always WIN!!???

I have started to care about someone enough to feel vulnerable.
All he had to do tonight was to text me that he has a board meeting tomorrow evening from six to eight pm (my one sure night off of work) to send me into the depths of insecurity, suspicion, and (I'm not proud of it) revenge-filled plotting. Oh yes. That's all it took. And now, here I am - wide awake at 4 am confessing the depths of my paranoia to anyone who cares to read about it.

BOARD MEETING at SIX pm??? BOARD MEETING at SIX PM!!!???? Really!? DINNER meeting, maybe. Ex girlfriend that looks like a St. Pauli's girl flying into town, maybe. But, BOARD MEETING!!!???? Who has a BOARD MEETING at 6pm? 6 - 8 pm, to be precise. Prime dinner hours. I mean MAYBE if we were in Manhattan. But not here. The kitchens are all closed by10pm here.

I've been tossing around in this close, hot space thinking about how tomorrow will play out. I probably won't hear from him at all. But, IF, by some miracle he texts me and wants to see me after his "board meeting", I shall simply text back and say that I have scheduled a board meeting for 9 pm. If he can have one at 6, I don't see why 9 is any more ridiculous - at least the members of MY board will have already dined!

I do realize how silly I am being. But I can't help it. I've been trying to talk myself off the ledge for several hours now to no avail. The truth is....I've been really sick for the last few days. And I had to go into work sick last night and tonight. And the only thing dragging me through it was the anticipation of seeing this man again. Seeing what baby step forward we might take. Ot what we might learn about one another next. It's been really, really fun. And exciting. And I'm getting a little bit wrapped up in the idea of him. Or us.

And that makes me vulnerable.

The Club. Downstairs players.

The Players:

SAM. An aging princess. Wears the remnants of a once beautiful face like a well worn jewel. Moves gracefully. Dark blonde hair, Nordic features, demure voice. Smiles easily and sees everything. Being trained as Bar manager. She might have secrets. In fact, her secrets are wilder than anyone there could imagine.

DAVID. Bar tender ala 'Cocktail'. Handsome, late twenties, cocky, rough around the edges. Houston transplant. Gay men gravitate to him like kids do to candy. He's got a chip on his shoulder - he's better than this place, this job, and he's ready to leave. His secret passion is playing guitar in a metal band.

LEE. She is in her 30's, with dark dramatic eyebrows, dark hair and a sexy, smoky voice. She's just called off her wedding - and the members are upset for her. She's going to the big bachelorette weekend in Vegas anyway. She makes the best of things. She is a floating server who has been there long enough to know everyone's name and what they drink.

KAREN. Karen is around 50, overweight, a smoker and a slob. She calls everyone "hun", and has a curly, dark bob with grey roots. She acts like she's so subserviant, but says evil things when a person's back is turned. She's got a mean streak a mile long, especially hates any new hostesses and ESPECIALLY hates the pretty ones. She drives a fancy, new car which is always washed, but turns up to work herself in dirty clothes with no make up and dandruff falling on her black shirt.

CHEF. We'll just call him Chef for now. Who knows where he's come from or what his story is. 50's, mostly bald, medium sized man with a wry sense of humor. Very attentive to the members.

JORGE. BIG man. Sous chef with a BIG, DEEP voice to go with his size and position. He smiles a lot. Seems easy going and happy to be there. His voice could sell anything. He runs the kitchen with Chef coming and going. Chef is the quiet, little boss - Jorge is the ever present, 6 ft 4in man that makes it all work. And no matter what task he's involved in (cutting meat, making sauce, directing a prep cook), he always is ready to look up and dish out a smile that's like a giant kid's smile.

ALLEN. Allen is a pro. A happy, flambouyantly gay pro. He makes a lot of money and is loved by all the members. He looks like a tall imp. An imp with a red crew cut. His eyes are always twinkling with mischief. This one is an expert at entertaining himself and delighted at the ease of a job which involves making people happy by the delivery of his unique wit and talents.

my battery is going out - so that's all for now.

Costa Rica

I'm seriously thinking of running away to Costa Rica with my little sister.

Not joking.

The Princess has to Work Hard.

Oh good golly!
I am just back from a grueling night of work. My back hurts, my feet hurt. I have been listening to people at the Country Club talk about their golf games. Or whether they should summer in Maine or Paris.

A little part of me wanted to chime in, "I've summered in Maine AND Paris!"

Oh, It's so amusing. So amusing what a princess I've been able to pull off being for SUCH a long section of my life. I mean, I've worked hard...sometimes. And being a Mom is often considered hard work, BUT.....come ON! I've been a damn princess. I just ate at that same Country Club a week ago as someone's guest. It's ALL so very funny!

I took a good look at the woman who was still "making arrangements" for summering in Paris. I shook my head (just INSIDE OF my own head) and thought, "I wouldn't trade places with her for all the summers in Paris, all the tea in China, or all the money in the world!" I imagined what HER summer in Paris would be like. Uh uh. No sir. Not fun. (I'd been listening to her prattle on about her own wealth for over an hour - to people she KNEW, no less).

Then, I remembered MY summer in Paris.
Only last summer I had MY summer in Paris. Oh my GOODNESS! What adventures, what FUN I had! Chasing after the fireman's ball and ending up in a lesbian bar in the Marais, fireworks, romance, conversations with strangers, croissant making class, picnics, kisses, the old man on the bridge - it was all so....so exciting. So unexpected. With Blue, and Sophie and unexpected friends.

And if I were to tell you about my summer in Maine...well...I  would have to take many blogs for that. Maine was SO, SO enchanted. The frame of a slow food documentary - but really all about Lake and Hilary (yes - some of you know her - Hilary Aptowitz) and their beautiful, gorgeous worlds. Full of organic gardeners and chefs, and musicians, and bread artisans and vegan geniuses, and young people making and living in te-pees and tents, and soft summer rains, and idealistic love and fantasies of a better (almost perfect) world. A garden full of vegetables, an orchard full of fruit, another of flowers, and an outdoor wood fired oven that my children and I got to help make (if only for a moment).

That summer (not so very long ago) there was swimmimg in the freezing ocean, there were lobsters (of COURSE!) - but not at a stuffy restaurant or club with boring, pinned together looking women that have nothing to talk about except their money - these lobsters were procured fom the fisherman himself at 5 am. - a lovely bread artisan's father! These lobsters were lovingly made into a sushi-making party where all generations of adults and children rolled rice and seaweed and fish together into delicious concoctions while laughing and singing and dancing. These lobsters were ooohed and aaaahhhed at in admiration by many Californians. These lobsters were thanked profusely for giving their lives for our pleasure and nourishment. These lobster shells were not thrown away, but made into a delicious lobster bisque.

That summer in Maine, there was excellent bluegrass music and excellent blues music played at every turn. That summer there were Bob Marley covers played and sung in the barn. There were kisses and there was insiration. There was poetry. There was sunshine. There were perfect stars and glowing fireflies. Lake's kingdom was as amazing as any Tolkien world. It was impossible not to feel alive and lucky and  full of love that summer. It was hard not to think that the rest of the world was crazy. All the people that were in malls or minimalls or chain"restaurants" or anywhere at all that was not so connected to our beautiful Earth.

That summer there was sailing.
That summer there was blackberry pie. We picked the blackberries.
That summer there was bicycle riding. On a bicycle built for two.
That summer Hilary sang 'Summertime'.
That summer Mieke and Luka came up and joined us. He sang and played a song in the barn. Oma read a poem.
That summer we went sea weed gathering with the master hugger. He hugged you and you felt as if warm honey was being poured all over your insides - you instantly felt like a happy child!
That summer I saw a porcupine by the moonlight as I was walking down a country lane.

That summer was the kind of magic that money can not buy.

I've been a spoiled princess. People used to ask me what I did for work. I said, "I'm an actress."
Then they said, "Oh, you mean you're a waitress?"
I would laugh a little and reply, "I was a waitress once when I was 18. I wasn't very good at it."

That's my truth. I've been very lucky for a very long time. Maybe my luck's run out. Or maybe it's just time for me to remember how great I've had it most of my life. So that - if and when it ever happens again - I'll appreciate everything THAT MUCH MORE.

Deja Vu

As she listened to the music, it felt like she was not ONLY listening with her ears and her brain. The combination of this music and her emotions drugged her inside and out. She could not take her eyes off of the love of her life, and yet she felt she couldn't see him clearly. Tears were in the way for one thing. Hot tears. And lots of them. She tried to keep her body as frozen as possible so no one would notice her deranged, helpless state - but even as her body stiffened, she felt transported to another place and time.
Without closing her eyes, her psyche was inondated with visceral memories from many, many years past.

        *********************************************************************

He played, and she was on the beach of a lake. It was foggy. She was waiting for him. jumping out of her skin with anticipation. She didn't know if he would come. The fog parted like a curtain, and he made his entrance into her world for real. He was tall and thin, with the softest, sweetest eyes ever given to a man. Searching eyes. He looked around a little, then laughed very slightly.

"Is it you?" he said.
"Yes." she said, feeling like her insides were about to explode. With happiness and nervousness and seventeen year old hormones.
"You wrote the notes?" He asked.
"Yes. It was me."
He looked a little bit baffled. Moved closer to her. Shook his head, laughing nervously again.
"Wow. I never would have guessed it was you."
"Why not? Who else would it be?"
"I don't know.." he smiled down at her shyly, "..just not you."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the lapping water. The sound of the water was so calmimg, and the fog felt like peace - but they were in another place. Transported by a much stronger energy.
"Are you disappointed?" she asked, trying to see his face in the dark fog.
"No." he said. "Not at all. Are you kidding?"

He was so close to her now. His body was like a magnet. She pulled him to her by his shirt, stood on her toes and kissed him. He kissed her back. His lips were warm and perfect, his breath was like sex and home all at once. And although it was a soft, gentle kiss - it instantly left her wanting more and everything.
It was a perfect first kiss.

He leaned over her. Whispered, "I can't believe you were my secret admirer."
"Why not?" she asked, trying to be flirtatious and not just throw her arms around him and hold on for dear life.
"I don't know..." he whispered, close to her face. He kissed her again. His lips sent hot waves of longing all through her body. "I just can't"

She took him to her dorm room that night. They kissed and talked for hours. She wanted to rip all of his clothes off and do everything with him. But she didn't.
His hair was so soft. It was like silk.
Sitting in that concert hall, she could remember exactly how it felt and smelled. How his shirt felt on her cheek. How his skin felt under her hand. She remembered exactly how it felt to finally have him in her arms, and how from the very first few moments she knew that she never wanted him to leave.

The Matisse has finally arrived!

I have spent the day....WAITING.

Finally, D and Mom came back to the house to have a little chat and catch up on the details of my life.
D was in a merry mood, having lunched with my sister at one of his favorite French bistros, Epicerie. He brought back a macaroon for us, which was quite delicious - even to my exacting standards.

They spoke of friends, and recalled a ghastly seafood casserole they'd both been invited to dine upon in the recent past. "The SMELL!", D exclaimed, "The SMELL of that thing - the whole house just STUNK!"
The two of them bent over in laughter at the memory of the horrid meal.

Then, D was trying to explain to me that I looked a bit too much like Rebecca De Mornay in 'The Hand that Rocked the Cradle' to realistically think I'd ever get a position as a nanny. I thanked him.
(I never get tired of being comapred to her!)
"Why do you keep glancing at the door?" D asked me.
"She's waiting for UPS." Mom said. "For her painting."
"It's not a painting. It's a litho." I asserted. "An original litho. I've been waiting here all day."

And I had been.
Just like Scarlett O'Hara, I am reduced to selling off my treasures for neccecities. It's not the first time, either. I had to sell a beautiful ring a long time ago in London so that I could buy diapers. I don't mind. Lots of things are more important than owning a Matisse right now.

"I told her she should wear her glasses when she interviews to be a nanny..." my Mother went back to.
"Well, can we open it up and see it when it arrives?" D asked.
"I've tried that, Mom. Doesn't seem to help." I looked at D, thinking. "Well, I guess so. I have to open it to have it appraised anyway.."
Just then my Mother gave a little gasp. I looked out the window and saw the man in brown shorts. I let out a squeal right at about the same time the dogs across the way started barking at the poor man like crazy. "It's HERE!" I practically shouted, jumping up and running to the door. I flung it open to see the man gaurding himself against a ferocios Chihuahua with my box. The bigger dog was barking loudly at him, but keeping a civilized distance. As soon as the man was able to turn around and hand me the big package, D was at my side exclaiming "Oh your Picasso has arrived!"
"It's a Matisse, D."
And as soon as the door was closed D confided "I didn't think he would know who Matisse WAS!"
"Oh, so you were showing off for the UPS guy?"
"Well.."

The three of us wielded box cutters and sissors and got the thing out, styrofoam peanuts flying everywhere. D set it on the couch with a flourish and we all stood back and looked at the delicate face of a Matisse girl framed in gold. A few simple strokes were all he needed to create a face with personality and movement and expression. I had chosen this very simple face because it reminded me of the Matisse drawings and cut outs that seemed to most inspire my mother in her paintings. My mother loves Matisse so much that I took her to New York one time specifically to see a huge Matisse exhibit that had come to The Museum of Modern Art from Paris. We stood in line with people from all over the world to see his work. And we met  Woody Allen on that trip, after seeing his jazz band play. It was one of the best trips of my life. That's probably why I bought the litho in the first place.

We all looked the thing over for a moment before D said (in his most lordly voice) "The Matisse has FINALLY arrived!"

Making Rain and Crayon Art

Well, this may indeed be a stalling tactic.

For one very important reason, I feel compelled to write a story that is very hard for me...and I'm gearing up, but not quite ready.

So, instead, I'll tell you about today.
Today, I spent with my little sister, Liat. We had breakfast, talked, then went for mani-pedis. Then we went to the Bead Shop and spent a ridiculous amount of time looking at and sifting through all kinds of beads and sparkly things. There were bins of "bead soup". That's what the shop was calling big bowls of mixed up beads for a lesser price. These bowls of sparkling, shiny beads made me feel just like a kid. I wanted to dive my hands into the bowls and lift them up full of sparkling beads and gem-like things. I wanted to don a pirate hat and Puss in Boot's boots and steal all the treasure, write a play and perform it on the high seas! Something about that place made me feel happy and free. The idea that I could spend a few dollars and come out with everything I needed to make beautiful jewelry was empowering.

Then, I came back to my Mom's house and made curry and salad. The smell of exotic spices began to fill the small house. As the curry simmered away, making me think of far away places and adventures yet to come, I took my drink outside to the balcony for some fresh air. It was getting warm and muggy in the house.

I sat outside looking at the sky. Thinking. Smiling.
The sky was pregnant with dark clouds, like so many days before it - promising rain, but not delivering. Or delivering just a stingy, muggy, drizzle. Texas has been in a six year drought, the lake is FORTY FEET low. We needed RAIN.
I held my drink up to the sky and challenged it.
"I want RAIN!" I demanded. "Nothing less than a STORM!!! I want it to rain down like crazy - like diamonds or cash in a Snoop Dog music video!!! I want it to POUR!!!"

My mother came out with a bowl of rice and curry to join me.
"This is GOOD!" she said. "Delicious! And it's so nice out here..."

The wind had JUST started to kick up and a cool breeze cooled our foreheads. It was delicious. I smiled all the way through my body and let it sweep over and into me - saffron, the breeze, and the light drizzle that had just started. Then, just as my mother shifted and got comfortable, making some "Mmmm..." sounds, the rain started for real.
"Oh! " she said, "It's really raining! We'd better get inside!"

As we hustled inside, lightning cracked in the near distance and thunder rumbled. Mom's dog, Dorothy, tried to hide under the bed. "It's happening.." I thought. "THIS is more like it."
Then, before my mother had time to get in the car and pick my sister up from the coffee shop down the street, the sky let LOOSE. It was raining sideways buckets and cracking lightning, roaring thunder. We had to drive Liat to an appointment in flash flood conditions. My brother texted "DON'T LEAVE THE HOUSE. Massive FLOODING!"
I texted back, "TOO LATE!"

Later tonight, when we were all safely home and relatively dry, my Mom brought out a special crayon.
"Look what I found at school today." she said. (she's a preschool teacher) "It's a PRANG!"
Apparently Prang crayons are a brand of crayons long gone that are superior in pigment and over-all quality.
"Let me see that thing.." I said. (I had never heard of these crayons)
I started drawing on some paper right away.
"You know, it IS better." I said. "Smoother. And a GREAT color!"
Then, my Mom got all excited and started bringing out more crayons and paper. "Try this!" she said with excitement.

So I did.

The thing is, is that I can make all kinds of things. It's easy for me. I can make some pretty good crayon art, or costumes, or scenery - I can direct a play, I can sing, I can make a damn good curry (Thai, Indian, Balinese - you name it!).....I can throw a party on the smallest or largest scale with my hands tied behind my back and blindfolded. Once upon a time, I won awards - cash money even - for my poetry (although I fear that skill is lost)....I can make a child feel safe, shake a perfect martini or make a wedding cake.

 I MAY even be able to make it rain.

But REALLY... how do I put these skill sets on a resume?
Let me know ifyou have any ideas.

Rich or Poor...?

Last night,while I was busy NOT sleeping, something occurred to me.
A light bulb moment.
All of a sudden, I thought "Only a 3 months ago, I had tons of cash..."
Then I kept thinking.
I assessed my present state.
"Mmmmmm...." I thought. "I am cozy and happy and warm and overflowing with....."

OK. The thing is - I spent all of this time in Portland, with tons of cash in the bank, in a beautiful, big house, anything MONEY could buy - feeling like a beggar.

That's what I realized last night.
I thought back to the last time I had loads of money, and instantly remebered what a beggar I felt like there and then.
In Portland, I would go into a store and buy something I didn't need or really even want, just so someone would talk to me. Really. That's how bad it was, and if you've been reading my blog, you know it already.
Well, the interesting thing that sort of hit me in the head last night, was that I'm going to sleep every night in a house that I do not own and am not even paying for, and I feel like the richest lady in the kingdom. Here, around family, friends, and even new people that seem to have dropped out of the sky right into my lap - I go to sleep every night feeling loaded UP with love. Stinking RICH with it. I have soooo much love - I am giving it away by the bucket full!

I went into a gas station the other day here and I had to fish out change to pay for my gas. (that's how cash poor I am!)
"Sorry! " I said to the guy behind the counter, smiling and pouring my excess of love and hapiness all over his little store as nickels and dimes spilled out onto the counter.
He looked at me a little confused. The juxtaposition of coins versus the overflowing abundance of joy that was pouring out of my happy face was clearly confusing him.
"Well, that'll only get you about 2 gallons, Ma'am." he said, looking scared as a nervous puppy. (I think he thought that that information would burst my bubble)
I laughed at his uncertainty. "I guess that'll get me home." I said to him, beaming. I was SO full of love and happiness, it would be a CRIME not to own it and share it. "Thanks!" I said, smiling ear to ear - sincerely meaning it.
"Well.... you have a real nice day, now, Ma'am." the man said as he timidly picked up a little of the happiness that I had splashed all over his love-less establishment. "A REAL nice day.."
"It's a GORGEOUS day!" I replied with abandon - tossing my blonde hair and kicking my heel up. I MEANT it. And the subtext - MY subtext - was -" It's GORGEOUS AND IT'S OURS FOR THE TAKING!!!!! YOURS TOO, BUDDY!!!!!"

So. The question staring me in the face was : "Would you rather have plenty of money in the bank and be lonely and loveless (and FEEL like a beggar), or have NO money in the bank, but FEEL rich as a king because of the love that was flooding into and over you?"

The answer for me is clear and simple.

Since I have been here, I have had love given to me by my sister, my brother, my mother, my cousin, her family, friends, new people - it's just been POURING on. I am so grateful I can hardly express it.
Even my baby sister - who is just barely back and a bit fragile - is giving me her love. I am the weathiest human in Texas if love is the standard. I really am. I have so much - if you need some - open your hands and let me pour it on - because I have love to spare. I have happiness in ABUNDANCE! I have a HUGE, motherload of JOY!!!! I really do, just ask me if you need some - because I share everything I have.
How do you want it? If you want money, you can ask for a check or a money order or cash or gold bars or stocks, bonds, etc. - and LOVE? Just ask me. You can have it in back rubs or songs or hugs or smiles or poetry or cake - you just let me know. I am stinking RICH with love. I have plenty to share.

And this question that appeared to me last night - to feel like a beggar with money in the bank, or like a king with none - that was easy for me to answer.
But what about you?
What is YOUR answer?
I would really like to know.

Fast and faster.

So sorry I haven't been able to write lately! Everything's been going so FAST! And I mean EVERYTHING!
Here are some examples :

The other week I woke up with 2 pimples on my face. By 6 pm that evening, they were gone.

A couple of weeks ago, I met a man at my cousin's theatre and he pursued me AGGRESSIVELY for 4 days and nights. Non-stop texting, phoning, etc. On the fifth day I agreed to meet him for lunch. We had lunch, he followed me to my next appointment (I was meeting a friend for happy hour), then he called me the next morning to tell me he didn't want to date me because I was a "strong willed person". (I figured it was really because I let it out during lunch that I have 4 children)  - I didn't want to go out with him in the FIRST PLACE!!! But he managed to court, convince and dump me in less than a week! Now that's FAST!

 Also - I have managed to go from culinary school to line cook/prep cook in less than a month at one of my favorite restaurants. I have been trained in a language that I do not speak in less than 3 weeks. I think that's BLOODY FAST!!!!

 I have gone from deep pockets to empty ones in record time - less than a year ago I was flying loads of people to Paris, putting them up in a 4 star hotel and taking everyone out for - well, everything!

A year ago I had a beautiful house that had been mine for twenty years, now I'm homeless.

BUT....everything's been going SOOOO fast - who's to say that I won't have a million dollars in the bank a year from now?
I've lost ten pounds in two weeks and gotten some fab, fun headshots done for free over the course of a week - so as far as I'm concerned - ANYTHING'S POSSIBLE!

Bring it on, Life. I've burned all of my fingers and they healed in a day. I'm doing my sit ups, getting Spanish books at the library and, quite frankly, I'm ready for anything. Bring it on - and DON'T spare your fast balls!

The New Normal, or What Kari Said..

I am sipping on a cup of excellent Costa Rican coffee, with just a touch of almond milk and brown sugar. My breakfast is a bowl of greek yogurt piled high with fresh blueberries and strawberries. I am sitting at a modern, glass dining table in a sun drenched room - looking out at a city view past a sea of tree tops, and a perfect chalk blue sky with only a few cotton candy clouds hanging above it all.

When I wake up in the morning, the view outside my bedroom window is of a castle. Ok, maybe not a CASTLE - but definitely an Italian chateau. ( It looks like a beautiful Four Seasons Hotel was accidentally air lifted and dropped in from Tuscany!) Most mornings there will be a deer right outside that window. Two feet away. If you had told me this would be my daily routine a few weeks ago, I would have laughed at you in disbelief. With all of the horrible things going on in the world, how is it that I am so lucky?

Right before Christmas, I went to visit my brother's X-wife, Kari. I still love her, and my children still call her 'Aunt Kari'. We had a little time to talk about life things while our lads were entertaining each other. Everything seemed to be going as well as could be in her world. Her new marraige, her son, her new house. Everything seemed so right on. And Kari, herself, was more beautiful than ever. Happiness and confidence poured out of her lovely face.
Then the conversation turned to me.

I had a whole routine down to explain my erratic moves of the last year. I told her about all of our dear friend, Mark's, family and friends of family dying in the last few years BEFORE they got to take their dream cruise or dream trip. In some dramatic instances, it seemed they dropped dead two days  before the cruise. Mark's family couldn't be more 'safe'. They were mid-west folks who played by the rules their whole lives. Two weeks vacation a year - ONLY two weeks (the rest of the first world countries think we are mad regarding this)...and then, like some cruel joke - DEAD - BEFORE they could enjoy their long awaited retirement.

"So, you see, Kari", I told her, "I was just not going to fall for that trick. I just decided to do it in reverse. Have my fun dream trips NOW, when I can and I'm super healthy and young enough to still get into some trouble, and then I won't mind if I work until the day I die. I'll just be some little old lady in a corner shop. You know, with a little apartment. I'll toddle on down to the shop with my lunch in a paper bag and sell things to nice people all day. I think that sounds pretty good."
"Oh, I see." she said."YOU are going to magically turn into a little old lady that works in a shop some day?"
"Yes! And I won't have any regrets - you see?"
"And when do you imagine this happening?" she asked with a smile in her eyes.
"Oh...you know..pretty soon. In my fifties, I guess."
"So, a few years from now - some time in your fifties - you're going to change into a completely different person?"
She said this looking right into me. She was certainly laughing at me inside.
"Why not? I can be a little old lady at a shop! You don't think so? What's the matter with that?"
"Nothing. I just have a hard time believing that you're going to turn into a completely different person than the one I know - the person that is standing right in front of me now. That's all."

I just stood there in disbelief. I must have had a very stupid look on my face, because then Kari laughed out loud.
"Oh, Jennifer! " she laughed, giving me a little hug, "Think about who you ARE. You're the one who is always travelling around the world - it wasn't just this year - going on crazy adventures...you're whole life is a crazy adventure. I'm just not sure you're going to be able to change into another person altogether."

I was stunned. My bubble popped. Maybe she was right. I thought about this for a few moments as she scooped up her little blonde boy, kissed him on the head and redirected his play away from an electrical cord that he was fascinated with.
"Cookie?" she asked sweetly, as she offered forth a chocolately bit of decadence.
"OK", I said in slow motion, trying to assess how I felt about this severe wrench in my life plan.
"So, are you saying..." I slowly forced out while waving the cookie in the air, ".. that I will NEVER be an old lady in a shop?"
Kari just smiled and shrugged.
"Are you saying that I'm just going to keep ON this way? "
"Well, you are YOU."
" Do you think I am going to become a sort of Aunty Mame kind of character? "
Kari just laughed and shook her head. "Well, more like that.." she said, amused.
"My goodnes, Kari. I never thought of it that way."

Now I'm here.
Only a few weeks later. Everything's been going so FAST. How did I end up so QUICKLY in what may arguably be the most beautiful spot in Texas? Despite the fact that I am now near penniless. (in cash anyway)

Just yesterday, my sister called me after a panic attack. The one thing she said comforted her was that she now knows that I am able to pack up and get out of any city in under a week.
Darn it! Maybe Kari's right. People that can pack up that fast, move, spend all their money, then land on their feet next door to a bloody castle might not EVER turn into little old shop ladies!

Oh well.
'Normal' is overrated in my book. Time for me to accept the new 'normal'. My normal. It's NORMAL for me to hit up 6 or 7 countries in a year. It feels just as 'NORMAL' for me to be so elegantly homeless now as it did to HAVE a home! I'll just have to kiss those dreams of NORMAL normal goodbye and be thankful for all the crazy good stuff that comes my way.

But that's all I can write for now. I have to plan an outfit for this weekend. I'm going on an excursion on an old fashioned steam train to the country with my little nephew, my brother and sister.
And one must ALWAYS dress appropriately for each and every adventure!