Untitled

Je ne regrette rien

-Edith Piaf

Anxiety Girl vs. Fearless Nomad

Yesterday a rather bizarre sensation overwhelmed my being as I was doing some routine household cleaning. The space I call home for now is relatively...compact. I've had my suitcase stashed against a wall for a couple of months - - walking by it several times a day; sometimes giving mild consideration to the prospect of moving the thing. Realizing that I can't convert the suitcase into a piece of furniture - I finally decided to put it into storage. However, when I went to pick the suitcase up I felt a wave of panic. 'What do I do without my suitcase at the ready?' Well, ya nerdlinger - you go to storage and retrieve the thing whenever you want to go...

So the suitcase is in the backseat of my car....I'll get there...but it may require a benzo on a doiley.

Happy Trails!

-a

Strange Days

The weather has been moody around these parts. Saturday was what I call a calico day...brooding clouds, rain, wind, hail, thunderstorms, sun, humidity. By evening the thick air smelled like a campfire. Last night, unable to sleep - I got up and stood on my deck gazing up an orange moon. This morning ash coated the dashboard of my car......I love crazy weather, but I hope the fires are controlled soon. Summer has only just begun.

-a

Running Without Leashes

During my morning walk - Kim and I encountered quite the flagrant man in red & black flannel with 3 hyped up canines.

We huff and puff (or I did anyway) up the hill on Sonoma...begin to pass a driveway where this very giddy golden lab bounds toward us. A man darts into view from behind an open SUV door. Man says (with horrified expression) "She's friendly!" The golden lab is bouncy and goofy...the man says "Fuck! Fucking Dog. God damn it"...Canine numero dos runs out to greet us, then a 3rd in the cluster 'o canines runs out with leash trailing behind. The man erupts into rapid fire of F Bombs again "FUCK. Fuckin' dogs...Bessie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!...Oh fuck it! Fuckin' go! Fuck dog. Bessie!!!!!!!!!!!!" Bessie, -a white and tan freckled number runs up to Kim and me. I try to get a hold of her collar which simply comes off her neck; and Bessie leaps into the yard next door. The man spins around in his driveway grasping for the dog collar and leash...3 dogs happily jumping, running and teasing him and the man will have none of it. I think the early morning visit to the dog park has KIBOSH written all over it. Kim and I walk on...laughing hysterically...our pace is shit now...we're laughing too much. "oh fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck's sake!" Somebody get the poor man a cup of coffee...and all those F Bombs before 6 a.m. Poor dogs.

As Good As It Gets

Overheard at hair salon this evening:

Stylist: So, you're going to Vegas...when? What for?
Patron: I turn 40 this week.
Stylist: (gasp!!) Oooooh, how are you doing?

Wow. Since I was sitting in the chair right next to the soon to be 40 year old; my twisted facial expression was revealed in the side by side mirrors. All I could think was...Seriously? On average, American women live into their 80's...Over the Hill cards are made for 30 year olds and beyond. Do we really slam the wall on youth barely into half our lives - spending the other half chasing it, glorifying it, trying to buy it back? Don't get me wrong - embrace youth - honor it and then evolve....more than half our lives spent being ashamed that we're essentially still here only older (duh?) is puzzling to me.

Speaking of honoring - today I think of you Big D. Someone who left us all too soon and someone who told me once...reaffirmingly "you know who you are". I'm so thankful you did when I wasn't sure I did at all. Love and miss you today and always.

Additionally - - that soon to be 40 year old might want to re-think her stylist. Just a thought.


Cheers!!

-A

a word here...

saw this one in an article yesterday.....thinktankerati. love that! wonder where i'll see it or hear it next. somebody play with me...use it in a sentence.

-a

Fear

Today was the first day that I got back on the Black Dog. I met up with dear friend for usual 5:15 am walk and was frustrated that I just couldn't keep up...she reassured me as she jogged a distance ahead and then back to me again that I should rest up this week and let the ankle heal. Back to square one.

I was gimpy last week....just about ready to go again by Friday. So back to the Black Dog - I rode to work but was not as confident as I had been last week. The real fear came when I approached the long driveway back up to the carport on the ride home. I rode the brakes down the faded and in some spots - crumbly driveway to the carport...at times with both feet out to the side for steadying. I hated that I was so fearful. I resented that while we can talk a good talk and try to boost ourselves - myself; that the physiological response to my fear is so acute and crippling.

I will try again tomorrow.

-a

3 Things

"When wealth is lost, nothing is lost.

When health is lost, something is lost.

When character is lost, all is lost."

-unknown

Stoned and De-Throned

It really threw me. The Black Dog has officially kicked some 'cita ass. Don't ever tread gravel roads on a scooter. I've done it before and been fine - but on my way home this afternoon I coasted down the hill to my doorstep, braked a little and SLAM! right into the gravel I went. Rammed my ankle (same one injured last week at Rainbow Pool) into the ground and banged my head into the rocks....(I can't speak enough about helmets now....I want a vintage diver helmet at this point)...I was spead out on the gravel looking up into the oak tree wondering if I could get up...but figured I'd better since I could smell gasoline (usually a scent I enjoy...weirdo!). Rolled the scooter behind my car and iced the ankle...friends are coming over anyway with some wine and....

all will be well...

effing gravel!!!!!!!!!!!!

-sprained 'cita

Letting Go, It's Hardly Giving In

I'm letting it go. I'm putting it down...and I'm being quiet for a minute. No namaste, no Om,...just some silence for a bit. Ah,...it feels better already.

"It's okay to want comfort. Simple and pure are not inferior or pedestrian"

-Liza Palmer

Dance Along the Edge

I'm back from Yosemite. That place does wonders for the soul - crowds or no crowds. Our group camped at a place about 5 minutes from the park entrance and nobody else wanted to check out things on the valley floor 'cept my cousin and me. Being the shutterbug she is, B packed up all her gear and off we went for a day trip. As soon as we dropped into the valley and Half Dome revealed itself...I was in just as much awe as the first time I saw it. I was 25 the first time I went to Yosemite and I wondered then..."what took me so long to visit this place...and what else is out there that I haven't given much thought to checking out?". B is a seasoned visitor to the park but hasn't shot film there in autumn - so we made a plan to return in October to hike Half Dome and play with cameras.

While on the trip we also visited Rainbow Pool for an afternoon. The water was freezing ass cold but if you sat in the sun long enough, it didn't seem as intimidating to go for a dip. Nearby, a couple of guys in wetsuits were jumping off the rocks about 50 feet above. I looked at Pat and said "you, me...let's go jump!" Pat nooded but I was the only one headed for the stream that led up to the main boulder. Getting to the top required some rock climbing but I was determined to make it up. Once there (and true to 'cita form) I threw one leg over the edge and began to pull up but I stumbled and landed on my palms...skidding toward the edge. Now...all I could think was "SHIT, this is NOT how I want to make my exit off of this damn rock". I eventually stopped skidding on my palms, rubbed my twisted ankle and sat there to get my bearings. One good part about that digger episode was that no one saw...I was out of view from the onlookers below. So I got up, walked to the edge and dove in. My cousin later told me that she was expecting a cannonball or something, not a dive. But I figured that I cannonball, or any other type of flailing around would just hurt. As it happened...my sandals popped off my feet upon impact and my bikini top didn't stand up to "sport bra" support as I was barefoot and bouncy when I swam back to shore, sandals in hand, two tucks and Gary helped me out of the water where a beer was waiting for me. B only captured the splash on film...typical. Kind of like that scene in 'Sixteen Candles" where John Cusack takes a poloroid of Anthony Michael Hall and Babe...and only captures half of AMH's face and bracey smile. And that my friends, is my tale of Rainbow Pool.