welcome home...

7 hot dusty days camping in a dried up lake bed at the foot of majestic mountains has the ability to clear your head of the clutter.

ever since the first time i heard about burning man, i've wanted to go. the one-two punch of testing your personal limits by camping with just what you can pack in combined with the eye-popping art made right there on the playa appealed to a core part of me.

when my cousin, andrew, talked to me about going and camping with his group, pandora's lounge and fix-it shoppe, i seriously thought about going. i knew, however, that going and knowing only andrew would not be an option for me. andrew's a super-fun guy, but andrew's also a super-busy guy at burning man...in addition to help run the camp and fixing bikes in the shoppe, he volunteers and works a lot. i knew i had to find someone to go with and i had the perfect person in mind and that was my friend, kim.

kim is a sculptor, potter and avid camper. she would appreciate the art, not be too freaked out by the craziness and i knew we would have a good time together. so i asked her, she said, "yes," and the months of planning began.

fast forward to september 1, 2009 when we winged our way along with a new friend, cheryl, to reno, nevada to start our adventure.

the first day was full of travel, car rental snafus and driving...not to mention the fact that we still had to set up our tent, get our beds put together and eat some dinner. tuesday was a very full, tiring day. the next morning when we woke up kim and i decided that september 2 was our real first day and made a fresh start right then and there, putting the travel-day blues behind us.

every day is like a lifetime on the playa. you go to bed at night and try to remember everything you did during the last 24 hours and your mind reels. how could you have packed so much sensory overload into just 1,440 minutes? it was impossible, and yet, it really happened (and i have the pictures to prove it).

at times i wished i could go home. on wednesday in the twilight of the sunset i asked myself why i had come on this journey. the experience was testing my emotions in a way i had not expected. i didn't feel comfortable (tent camping can be physically taxing), i was face-to-face with things that in the real world would stop me in my tracks (nudity is quite common on the playa and as open-minded as i think i am, at first, the sight of both women's exposed breasts and men's nudity freaked me out). i wanted to be able to gain as much as i could from this trip, through all of my senses, but at times i was paralyzed by my surreal surroundings.

friday during our morning ritual of walking to center camp to get coffee, kim and i decided to sit on the dusty couches and listen to the music. mamuse was the name of the two women who were peforming at sunrise. their voices were soothing. it seemed as though their melodies were softening the hard part inside of me that had needed tenderness. i silently cried throughout their set, connecting with the answer i had the night before been looking for.

i had come to burning man to leave the worry of being sick behind. for the past five years i've been consumed with near constant thoughts of illness. approaching my five-year cancer-free anniversary in december 2009, i was often worried that i would not reach the date. then, last year, i was diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder and i felt my health was out of my control. this trip was taken on the pretext of traveling before i was unable to tackle such a difficult undertaking. when the temple burned on sunday night, i knew i was leaving all of my worry and self-doubt about my health right there in the ashes of the temple on the floor of the lake bed. i was not going to pack that to take back with me.

two weeks later, i am still worry-free. i'm not naive enough to think that i'll never worry again about my health. as a matter of fact, i experienced a flare up of my condition immediately upon returning home. blame it on the near-constant sun exposure, or the fact that i rode my bike miles and miles every day, or the most likely contributor to my ability to get through the week while in the midst of it -- i had no other choice! but the worry is no longer a needling, whiny voice in the back of my mind, egging me on to live fearfully.

when you arrive at the greeters' gate at burning man, the greeter asks you if you're a first-timer. upon hearing that i was, the greeter asked me to get out the car, smiled a huge grin, hugged me to her so tightly and cheered, "welcome home!" looking back, i know that going home to burning man made it possible for me to let go of my worry. here now, sitting in my real home, i am able to write about how i am reaping the rewards this mind-altering experience afforded me.

love letter to the man
(a poem i typed in the middle of the playa on a vintage royal)

hippies, freaks, spirits

all of us sharing this

crazy dusty ride

couldn't conceive of it (really)

before i arrived...

now that it's almost over,

i may think it was a dream.

an update...

what has lured me out of hiding to update you, my fine devoted readers?

no, not the presidential race...

no, not a comment on the price of gas...

but, yes, a post to mark the day that i realized i am aging. my eyelids have begun their slow acquiescence to gravity. i looked in the mirror and realized a smudge from the eyeliner framing the edge of my upper eyelashes has worked it's way onto my upper eyelid...it's just a hop, skip and a jump until my hands look like my mother's and i'm complaining about how my knees hurt.

hey kids...that ball is mine now. it went into my yard and now it's mine.

v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n...kind of...

it's that time of year again. time to hang the ornaments, wrap the presents, bake sugary sweets and....have a colonoscopy.

three years ago i got the greatest christmas gift a girl could dream of - a clean bill of cancer-free health. each year since i've celebrated by getting a colonoscopy to keep the good vibe going.

and my christmas gift to you, dear reader? a reminder to schedule your screening colonoscopy if you have a family history of colon cancer or are over the age of 50 or are experiencing symptoms (you can go here if you're unsure what might make you eligible to for this test). please do that as a gift to me, okay? colorectal cancer is the third most common occurring cancer. it happens equally in men and women. good news? it's very easy to cure with early detection.

so for the next two days i'll be at home, crossword puzzling, reading, preparing for my test, and thanking my lucky stars for my continued good health. after that? i'll be enjoying the holiday season, knitting, sewing, watching rudolph the red-nosed reindeer and eating marshmallow frosted cupcakes. i may check in here, i may not, but don't think you're not all in my thoughts...especially since so many of you have kept me in yours for the past 1,095 days.

here's to a relaxing, sparkling, joyous holiday!

smooth...

although i don't think i'm susceptible to advertising, of course, i am. info-mercials are hilarious, but they also appeal to some animal instinct inside my brain. it's as though the false enthusiasm starts to ring true after the initial two minutes of hilarity wears off. and so that is how i came to be the owner of foundation garments by kymora. i was lured in by their promises of "free" extras (all i had to do was pay shipping and handling), and the "guaranteed" promises of inches off.

yesterday, my little miracles arrived in the mail. i was so busy after i got home from work, that i waited until this morning for a trial run. and now, here i sit at my computer, tighter, firmer and smoother than i was yesterday at this time, but, admittedly, a bit less comfortable.

for those of you who know me in real life, i am tall and appear slender, but am large-framed with a boyish, straight up and down figure. these slenderizing wonders were obviously manufactured for the woman possessing a semblance of a waist, of which, i have none. so although i now can sport the vintage 1970's tomato red stewardess dress with fitted bodice (which is what i have on today), underneath i feel a tiny bit constricted.

i suspect from historical experience with these types of garments that by 5:00 p.m. today i will edit the words "tiny bit constricted" to "being squeezed to death by a boa constrictor."

and to those naysayers (kelly, i hear you!) who say i look fine, i only have this to say: my reflection in the full-length office bathroom mirror is all i need to remind me that this is the best money i've spent on shipping and handling in a very long time.

finishing things up...

while sitting in the hospital and then in between doling out medication, ice packs and forehead kisses once we got home, i've finished up a few knitting projects.

>>> two scarves for a swap that's due on december 12 (how good does it feel to be done early?)

>>> two pairs of wrist warmers -- one pair for someone i know who is turning sweet 16 this week! one pair for me.

>>> i've got another wrist warmer on the needles (in a yummy brown for nathaniel) and one of a pair complete (except for the thumb) for my very young cousin's christmas present.

i've really got my eye on this kit, but i am enforcing a moratorium on buying any more projects until i finish up at least one pair of socks.

i also frogged a scarf that i was knitting with two skeins from my rockin' sock club yarn...the combo didn't make my heart sing and what's the use wasting time knitting something i don't love?

and really? knitting is all i want to do these days anyway. grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking...even making the bed (which kelly always does anyway) seems taxing to me. my brain needs a rest, i suppose. knitting is stress relief...yoga for the soul...so i've been feeding the need to move my hands while keeping my rear end firmly planted in a comfy chair.

different, but the same...

last weekend, a mood overtook me and possessed me to get all my hair cut off. the entirety of the thought process lasted less than 29 minutes, and the total lapsed time from initial formation in my brain to the shampoo girl sweeping up billowy piles of my locks was 2 hours.

and now, a week later, i'm left feeling wonderfully light, but conspicuously exposed. my long hair was a shield, a curtain that kept the outside world at bay. now, though, with by tresses chopped to shorter than chin length, i'm out here, flapping in the breeze, for all the world to see.

and you know what? when you make a drastic change to your appearance, people who barely know you feel like that is an opening to comment -- "wow! that's drastic...what made you do it?" almost-strangers ask. "none of your business!" is what i think, but politely, ala miss manners, answer, "i was just ready for something different."

i looked in the mirror yesterday and felt like a different heidi was looking back at me. almost as if the hair was plopped down on my head and that by virtue of it being different, it made me different...but it doesn't. still me....

i'm it...

mary beth tagged me and since i'm such a good sport, here goes...

You have to post these rules before you give the facts. Players, you must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had. When you are tagged you need to write your own blogpost containing your own middle name game facts. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and to read your blog.

my middle name is sue...ick. but then when i think about it, what other middle name goes with "heidi?" in grade school, my nickname was "heidi the ty-d-bol lady." what? yea, for those of you under 40, do you even remember the ty-d-bol man? i mean, how in the world are women not freaked out by a man in their toilet? (i almost wrote something not very nice about chuck berry, but i refrained.) it's like that commercial for lunesta...you know the one where a giant prometheus moth lays next to my face just as i fall into a drug-induced slumber--ACK! how is that supposed to make me want to buy their sleep aid. if those are the type of acid-trippy dreams i'm going to have, well, i'll just stick with unisom.

but i digress...

S - silly. i bet you thought i was going to write serious, but no. this is a fact that only a few people know about me -- i'm very silly. ballet pirouet through the living room? check! sing in a froggy voice at the top of my lungs? check! enjoy the most juvenile movie ever made? right on! giggle with glee and clap my hands satisfiedly under my chin when i find a ponytail desk blotter at the antique mall? you can count on it. turn a cartwheel or a roundoff in the front yard? every year on my birthday! i was a very serious kid, and not very kid-like. when i got older, i guess i thought i should make up for lost time. childhood only lasts so long, but silliness lasts forever.

U - unconventional. if you've read this blog for very long, you already know this about me. i do very little that is thought of as run-of-the-mill. nathaniel says i'm a neo-hippie. my boss thinks i'm a little off. i hold down a 9 to 5, am married, a mother, own a home, car, cat, but how i got here was out of the ordinary -- just like my thrift store warddrobe, my dollar store reading glasses, my collection of paint-by-numbers, my penchant for picking up furniture out of other people's trash and my music selection (claudine longet anyone?). the cookier cutter existence is not for me. as my uncle would say, "that's why they make chevy's and fords."

E - eager. ever since i can remember, i've been anxious. anxious to start kindergarten. anxious to be married. anxious to start a family. it's really an eagerness, an impatience that is difficult (if not downright impossible) to squelch. really, just ask kelly the story of our engagement! i want to learn new things, but i often want to learn them right now or sooner, if at all possible. this fact, however, is why i find it hard to stick with something that i'm not good at immediately. skiing, for example. i was excited to strap on the skis for the first time, but then, well, i wasn't good at it...at all. and that fact kept me from enjoying the learning of the skill. this flies in the face, however, of how i stuck with the clarinet for 5 years and i was horrible. my family was thankful when i threw in the towel...oh, the aural agony of my practicing. and you would think, wouldn't you, that after all that time, i would have learned how to read music? nope. not one single note.

okay, now here's the part where i'm supposed to tag people...but all the folks i know who blog don't have the right letters in their names, so i'll tag missy (she has an "s" in her name!) and becky (oh look! an "e")...and hope they don't smack me the next we meet!

and now i'm back, from outer space...

i've missed this little bloggity-blog. no really! hey you! over there in the corner, snickering? i really have been busy. so please don't minimalize my heartfelt outpouring of blog-apologies.

so here's some random...

it is almost autumn and just in time, because i am just about finished with summer! the muggy, the a/c (hate!), the warm water from the tap (too hot to drink, not hot enough to make a cup of tea), the tired played out summer wardrobe (oh, gray target knit skirt that looked so cute and flippy in may. i've worn you to death, girlfriend, and i am wont to throw you in the give away pile due to your pilled fabric and stretched out hem due to the numerous trips to the washer/dryer. too bad you're still so comfy...), mosquitos, the inability to take a pleasant evening walk without a requisite outfit re-do immediately following, and the plant-killing heat. summer, it's been good to know you, now be gone!

i have been doing double duty at my day job and that has kicked my sorry butt. i wish i was exaggerting when i write that i have been working 50-60 hours a week, but i am not. everything else in my life has taken a backseat while we try to hire another me...but i think this may take longer than a little bit. bear with me, people. i'm dancing as fast as i can. oh, and a big shout out to kelly who has taken taking care of me to a new level what with the cooking and the laundry and the straightening and the never-ending supply of hugs, kisses and positive support. he is a force to be reckoned with!

(ed. note - kelly and i have always shared all household duties and chores. the exception for the past two months is that he is doing it all. me, on the other hand? i have been routinely returning home after a 10 hour day, eating his divine meals and then promptly falling asleep on the couch. there is simply no man on the planet that can hold a candle to kelly wallace.)

and last but not least...i found my perfect tattoo artist the other day. i'm reluctant to share this information with the world at large, but something tells me that the world has already figured out how awesome marie wadman is. i sent her an e-mail yesterday and just hope that someday soon she will respond. her waiting list is 6-8 months long. that's good for me, though, because i have a very special anniversary to commemorate that is about two years away. but you know me...a planner and always way ahead of time. i will let you know if/when i hear from her. i've never been to san francisco. to have marie do the work would require traveling there. i'm up for a good road trip.

and i finished the purple monstrosity sweater about a month ago...finally! pics soon.

tuesday of thanks...

practically every single day i wear something either thrifted or vintage. today, for example, i have on a c. 1973 polyester blouse. the black fabric is sheer and covered in green daisies, white carnations and blush pink roses. i'm wearning that over charcoal grey pinstripe forever 21 low-rise slacks. (i know! who says "slacks" anymore? let's bring it back, okay?)

yesterday i wore a c. 1950 circle skirt i traded some too big vintage dresses for at alice's vintage clothing in the university city loop. i love the skirt with a fervent passion.

both days this weekend i was rockin' vintage dresses and aprons. vintage and thrift make up the backbone of my wardrobe and i have chuck rice to thank for all of it.

indianapolis in 1979 was a far cry from what most would call "fashion forward." i bought most of my clothes, beside my mother, from ayr-way or zayres. given a school clothes budget of $50, i bought corduroys, ribbed turtle neck sweaters, a few velour v-neck pullover tops, a puffy down vest and some non-descript brown shoes. i felt prepared to start my freshman year of high school.

this was also the year i met chuck, another performing arts student. he and i would skip class together, eat fried donuts at the diner down the street from school, talk about writing and poetry and how much we hated the midwest. later we would act out scenes from "fame" while drinking bad coffee and smoking marlboro light after marlboro light.

one afternoon, seeking a valid reason to leave campus, chuck suggested we go to a thrift store. i was intrigued. in my mind only the poverty stricken and desperate would shop at the thrift store. chuck assured me that i would find ways to supplement my woefully plain wardrobe with items from the thrift store. he pointed to his long, black trench coat and wool scarf, "this, and this are both from the goodwill." okay...we got on the city bus and off we went.

the entire world seemed limitless to me that afternoon. t-shirts for 25 cents. jeans for 50 cents. vintage dresses and gloves and bags and hats and, whoa...i was starting to get dizzy.

and when i picked up something that was just not right, chuck told me how it could be altered to make it perfect. chuck (and an article from seventeen magazine) taught me how to taper the legs of all of my, now out of fashion, flare leg pants. chuck showed me the perfect length to cut the fingers off of gloves ala madonna.

chuck was my fashion fairy godmother, and i thank him for that. he helped me form a unique sense of self that i didn't know was lurking in me. i was restless and chuck introduced me to concepts and ideas that started me thinking about how i could ease the unrest and find expression through my clothes.

i don't know what happened to chuck. we drifted apart the way 15 year olds drift apart--without meaning to. but i want to send this out to him...a virtual hug...thanks for helping this awkward outsider feel her way toward a definition of what it meant to be herself in a time when that was all that mattered.

w.b.w. & breaking the curse...

after the great closet clean-out of summer 2007, a number of items were re-discovered and this little gem of a vintage dress is one of them. paired with a little 3/4 length sleeve black sweater and some ankle strap suede shoes it's a perfect work-a-day dress. i repaired some failing seams, sewed on a missing button and finished up the night by pressing with a steaming hot iron.

the last time i wore this dress was in 2003. on my way to work that morning, i drove my new car through a pothole the size of lake michigan and got an instant flat tire. i frantically called both kelly and the free roadside assistance that came with my car and then had the state run roadside truck offer to give me help. after a teary time, i chose to wait for the new car company and ended up on the side of the road for over an hour waiting for help. choosing either kelly's help or the immediate gratification of the truck that was already there would have been better, but you know, i like a challenge.

foolishly, i blamed the bad luck on the dress. yea, it couldn't have been the fact that i drove at top speed into a gaping hole whilst trying to avoid a back-up by passing ON THE SHOULDER...yes, that's me...sometimes that's the type of driver i am.

so i decided to give the dress another chance. and on my way to work this morning i was a model of civility on the road. a girl doesn't want to tempt fate.

another thing i am not...

patient.

when i have a desire or an idea for a project or a craving i must satisfy it -- right now, if not sooner. i know this about myself. i embrace this character flaw due to its ability to help me accomplish so much. outside of that benefit, though, it can often make me a less than pleasant person to be around.

so when i ordered new living room furniture in APRIL and the salesperson said it would be six to eight weeks, i (i) tried hard not to audibly gasp and (ii) foolishly took him at his word. i saw this window of time as an opportunity to grow as a person. and let me be quite honest...unless i could learn how to be a master cabinetmaker and upholsterer, i really didn't have any choice.

i could have gone to any number of other furniture stores that stock all of the pieces in their showroom and will deliver them to your home in less than one week. i do not wish to impune the quality of those stores' merchandise. i'm sure it's sturdy and well-made, but they had very few sofas that appealed to us. there was one in particular that offended -- a cowboy themed cattle drive emblazoned across the entire back of it. no, that would never do.

furthermore, i am not naive. i've ordered custom made items in the past and know that six weeks often miraculously becomes 9 or ten. but now, ELEVEN weeks later, without any living room furniture, i have grown as much as is humanly possible in the area of patience and crossed the threshhold into an alarmingly, restlessly, skin-crawlingly, want to yell a little bit, level of intolerance that i am finding difficult to overcome.

when the call FINALLY came earlier this week that the furniture had arrived and would be delivered this weekend, i was over the moon with bliss. when it arrives, if it lives up to my expectations of perfection and the ability to transport me to another realm merely by being my new place to fall asleep in front of the tv, i will be satisfied.

i will try to recall fondly these three months of my life as my "patience period."

on monday...

woke up:::ate breakfast (better 'n eggs and fake sausage):::knit a swatch for calorimetry:::showered and went to work:::yoga at lunch time:::drove home (ahh, holiday week traffic):::watered plants:::went for long walk:::ate dinner (has anyone else tried these? they really were tasty!):::knit the band for foxtail (okay, all but two rows and the cast off row):::watched the catered affair (ernest borgnine movies are so sad; see marty, please. just so good.):::ate brownies:::fell asleep on the couch...again.

edge of your seat, i'm sure...

how could you do all the things you had planned for the weekend knowing that i had yoga on monday?

seriously...it went very well. there were only four students so it was more difficult to hide out and go unnoticed. i got a couple of "10s," accepted the praise and concentrated on my breathing.

we did do some stability ball work, which was new to me and required lots of core strength. since i've had three abdominal surgeries i have no abdominal muscle tone, to be sure, so i kept wiggling off the ball. it was a mental challenge for me to not be good at it. a very valuable lesson.

there you go. now you can rest easy. you've been updated.

namaste...

it is a disease, to be sure, but often i feel like i have to be the valedictorian of everything. if i'm not 100% perfect, then i must be doing something wrong. as my friend becky would say, "you must have had a difficult toilet training."

so, even though it goes completely against the entire philosophy of yoga, i have to be the best at it. there is a reason why the act of yoga is called "practice." we are not meant to be perfect -- ever. it is a lifelong practice. but, me? i soldier on, trying to make myself perfect anyway.

i've begun taking yoga at my office on my lunch hour and the instructor is the most high-energy teacher i've ever encountered. she likes to tell folks that their poses are "10s!" the first few classes the valedictorian side of me reveled in the constant praise she doled out. then, after a little while it made me self-conscious. because, if any of you know me very well or feel like you do from what i write here, you know that although i love adoration, i don't really dig attention being drawn to me. if you wrote a little note on my research paper about how you liked a particular point i'd made or spoke to me quietly in the corner to tell me you liked my dress, i'd eat that up. but call me out in front of class or with a lot of people standing around and i melt into a pile of perspiring mush.

on wednesday i formulated a strategy for avoiding being called out in yoga class. the plan included arriving perilously close to late (something i abhor) and situating my mat in the back of the class. it worked like a charm...until, that is, i realized i hadn't been praised at all. i felt dejected. weird, huh?

becky suggested that i welcome the praise, that i embrace it and own it, because, well, i deserve it. and that's when it dawned on me...i didn't think i deserved it. damn! that becky -- she's good.

so my assignment for monday's class is to welcome the praise...if it comes, that is, and if it doesn't? then know that i am still doing fine. just fine. this is just practice after all.

sounds easy, right? i'll let you know on tuesday.

secret? what secret?

i found a journal i had begun, first in november 2002 and then took up again in january 2005, right after my run in with the "c" word. i read a few pages. i was quite clearly working through some issues. some of the issues were "wow, i can't believe i had cancer" related; but many of them were everyday life issues, contemplating living each day with intention and purpose. not unlike what i've been thinking about lately.


what really caught my eye, though, was on my mondo beyondo list (a suggestion i got from andrea). one of the items on the list was, "own a vintage VW and paint a crown on the side or the top." wow! it's like i worked the secret even before i knew there was a secret because 5 months later i became the proud owner of a 1965 bubblegum pink VW squareback station wagon.


so, does that really mean the secret works and that just by putting my wishes out into the universe that it brought the VW to me? or does that mean that folks who believe in the secret are more likely to attribute any remote coincidences to the secret?

editor's note: after i wrote the above i read this. which made me wonder all 100th monkey-like if there are lots of folks questioning how the secret works. what are your thoughts on the secret?

i am not...

...a gardener. i like to plant things and i like it when they grow, but if you talk to me about zones, dead-heading and/or cross-pollination i'm a goner.

...a painter. i like color. i like to apply paint to many objects, but i cannot paint a picture.

...a good housekeeper. every once in while i realize that there are other people that routinely vacuum under the beds or sweep their kitchen floors and i do those things, but mostly i live in a very organized, not very clean, home.

...a straight cutter. why, oh why can i not cut a straight line?

...a correspondent. i realized yesterday that in the past month i've forgotten to send three anniversary cards and at least two birthday cards.

...a telephone talker. i may forget to call you back if you leave me a voice mail message. also, for someone who likes to talk a lot, i often forget that someone actually needs to listen for it to be called a "conversation."

...a faithful blogger. well, you can look at my archives and see that for yourself.

what a weekend...w.a.w.

long weekends are always delicious, but this one seemed even more fabulous. i love it when the weather is not too hot (i don't really like a.c.) and you can sleep with a sheet covering you up with the fan blowing lilting night breezes over you. it makes me drift right off to dreamland.

so let's see, here's the rundown:

a little road trip and three hours of uninterrupted knitting time. i was able to finish up the yoke/sleeves of this. the next time i undertake a sweater project using dk weight yarn, in stockingnette stitch, however lovely and soft the fiber, please punch me in my arm and remind me of how neverending knit one row, purl one row can seem. i've cast on the 224 stitches for the bottom and calculated that i have nearly 20,000 stitches to go before i can even sew in the ends, block and seam it up. but it will be fabulous when it's finished. i promise to blog about it in 2009.

on the way home from the mini road trip, we visited a few antique stores/malls. we had amazing luck. i don't know about the rest of you that antique/thrift, but it seems like my luck comes in waves. perhaps it's that i look in a different way on those days. whatever it is, i am glad when luck visits me.

on saturday night we went to the roller derby. yes, you read that correctly...the ROLLER DERBY. it was a blast. for a brief moment, i thought i could be a roller girl, but, to be honest, i am just not that tough. this is a real game/sport and these women are playing for keeps. it does have a touch of the bizarre to it. the team members have crazy pun-ny names. so kelly and i cracked each other up coming up with all of the possibilities for my roller derby names. ran into my cousin, an acquaintance and the friend who introduced us. when worlds collide it's a wonderful thing.

took a class on sunday with the fun, funny, funky and fresh donna downey. what a great gal she is...and my classmates were great too. thanks to bev for sharing her tools with me!

on sunday there was more thrift store love and then i watched this movie and now am coveting this soundtrack. and the music that plays over the credits...love you by free design...it is my newest, favoritest song ever.

i missed pat benatar playing here, but the forecast for rain scared me off. but i did go downtown for this and the good luck continued. had a delicious linner (lunch + dinner = linner) here with a fab dessert of their famous sticky toffee pudding. "what's my favorite food? easy! sticky toffee pudding -- sincerely." (double points if you know what movie that quote is [sort of] from...kelly you don't get to play along.)

so that was it...very little housework. not nearly enough prep for the upcoming garage sale, but much relaxing.

tomorrow, a new twist on an old favorite...mixing it up on way back wednesday. see you then...i promise.

well, of course...

we've lived in our house for 17 years. right after we moved in i got a book of advice and how-tos for first time homeowners from the library. i don't remember much about this book other than this: anything that you want to do your home needs to be done in the first two years after you move in or you will never do it. how true.

when we first moved in, we had a newborn and a strict budget. that combination of circumstances meant that after we paid to have the hardwood floors refinished and painted the interior, our time and money were gone. thank goodness we knew lots of people willing to be paid for their manual labor in pizza and beer.

since those first salad days, we have done a fair number of updates to the house, mostly interior things, but recently, i've been busy in the yard. in the past i haven't done too much. this was in no small part due to the fact that my neighbor has a very ugly back yard, strewn with cast off, broken down little tykes goods (her daughters are into double digit ages now, far past the developmental stage for plastic play houses), rusty swing sets, a giant trampoline, two run down homemade dog houses, three broken barbecue pits, a deteriorating picnic table, countless trash cans and innumerable bicycles. she also seems to think that taking out one's trash, cleaning up after one's dogs or mowing one's lawn are tasks that only need be performed quarterly. so, beautifying my yard felt a bit like an exercise in futility.

something in me has snapped, though, and i am dedicating much of my time to creating a living environment (inside and surrounding my home) that reflects who and what i am.

there have been many discussions of late in the queen's household about change and what that change may signify. remember? hair length...tatooes and the like? so the hair has been shortened (i'm heading to short hair by degrees) and i've decided on a tatoo, but am waiting for a particularly significant anniversary to mark my body (more on that later). and, of course, all of that thinking lead to even more thinking.

i started to ponder what holds me back from doing the things i so often wish i was doing or hope for. often, in more ways than one, i was holding other people responsible for my contentment. "if only so and so didn't feel "X-way" then i could do {fill in the blank}. but you know what? that's just not fair.

if i love roses and forsythia and hydrangeas and azaleas and peonies, and i want to be able to cut them for a bouquet in my dining room, then it's up to me to plant then, water them, tend to them and arrange them. i refuse to wait until my neighbor cleans up her act, because that will mean that i may die before getting a garden that i love.

if i want the basement cleared out of my junk (yea, hi, there, kelly, you can use this entry against me sometime in the future when i say that it isn't ALL my junk...i know it is), then that's on me. same with cleaning the basement floor and painting it...if i'm the only one in the family that it bothers, then it's my job to do something about it.

ditto for painting the bathroom, reorganizing the hallway linen closet, culling my closet for out-of-date clothes. i have to take care of me and my stuff. that's not anyone else's responsibility.

because, here's the harsh reality about this "aha" moment...i am the only one ultimately on the hook for my own happiness. wishing that someone else could read my mind or figure out what it is that i desire just breeds resentment. i can make myself happy and if a trellis covered with trumpet vine makes me smile then i need to get my hands dirty and plant one.

what if...

i love the look of tattoos...no, seriously, i do. at the bookstore last night i saw a man with a spiderweb tattoo that spread out across his elbow. i thought it elegant. i also adore the "sleeves" of tattoos. to me they demonstrate such dedication to the beauty of the art form and often they tell a story about the person. what an imaginative use of one's own body to express themselves.

the waiter at the restaurant i ate lunch at had his eyebrow and his lower lip pierced...perhaps not my cup of tea, but it was definitely an interesting look -- a look that made a statement.

i've had long hair for at least the last ten years. i wear it long because i'm a wash and go kinda gal -- short hair needs a lot of attention, trimming and maintenance for it to look good all the time. but also i keep my hair long because kelly likes it long.

kelly doesn't like tattoos...or piercings. i respect all of those preferences, the same way he respects my preferences for no perms on men, tighty whities, speedos or hair pieces. it's a simplistic understanding.

but i do wonder how i would look, what i would choose to say to the world, if i had never met kelly.

i know i would have tattoos...at least one, probably more. the first one i would get would be wings on my back, big wingspan with feathers trickling down to the waistband of my blue jeans.

somewhere i would get a tattoo of a bird. one of my grandfathers had a blue bird on his upper arm. he got it sometime in the 1920's i suppose, before tattoos were fashionable and i'm sure there was a bit of a stigma attached to it. his tattoo went completely against my childhood image of him -- eating ice cream, making tomato soup with ham sandwiches and playing pinochle and yahtzee...yes, there would definitely be a bird...or two.

i would get my nose pierced...one of those tee-niny little diamond studs on the side. i love those.

and, i've said this for ages, but if i could, i would shave my head...maybe not down to the skin, but for sure less than an inch long. i shaved my head in college and it was liberating...that was before i wore makeup everyday or shaved my legs or wore dresses because i wanted to. i mean, come on, i was a women's studies major. i did it then because it was what i thought i was supposed to do. now i would do it because i want to. and that's more to the point anyway, right?

so all that thinking about how i would look lead me to think about how i might act differently, what i would have ended up being.

i know i would probably drink a lot more. maybe smoke (i know, i know. but when i did smoke, i really liked it). i'm smarter now than i was back then, so maybe not smoking. but definitely, yes, i would drink more.

i'm an impulsive person, impatient and into instant gratification. kelly is the tortoise in the race. he rarely, if ever, makes decisions he later regrets. mostly because he considers every angle of a situation and then does the analysis again to make sure he hasn't missed anything. something i admire greatly. i am a point and shoot quick-draw decider. in the long run, we balance each other out, but if left to my own devices, i know i would have moved a million times, regretted many things, but made so many other decisions in the meantime, that most of the missteps would have been forgotten and lost in my considerable wake.

i don't know if i would have had children. kelly is the only person i could ever imagine parenting with, because we are of such a like mind. i knew instantly that kelly would be a great father, even before he knew it himself and that is part of what drew me to him. so, no, i don't think i would have had children.

kelly makes me happier than i ever imagined i could be, or ever thought i deserved to be. much of my now well-adjusted-ness is due in no small part to kelly's persistence in helping me see what good dwelled inside of me and bringing that goodness out. so, although, if i had never met kelly, my outward appearance would be different, inside i would be sadder...definitely lonelier...more meandering and hapless.

so i'll forego the tats, and piercings and deal with a long head of hair to be more content and settled. i think it's a good trade-off.

duh...

i sat at my desk and realized i had left my delicious soymilk coffee creamer on the front seat of my car.

i grabbed my building access card and walked down the four flights of steps to the parking garage. i reached my car and realized i didn't have my car keys. all the doors were locked.

i walked back up the stairs, got me keys and went down the stairs again to retrieve the much sought after creamer.

back up the steps and back at my desk i searched high and low for my splenda packets. both pockets of my purse, in my bookbag...finally i opened the drawer where i actually KEEP my splenda and there they were.

in the kitchen mixing up my elixir of morning yummy-ness i thought that perhaps starting work at 7:00 a.m. is not saving me so much time.