moooo!

Thanksgiving!

So much to be thankful for.

Wish I were going to be with my family… but it’s a beautiful thing to have friends that you can call family.

…and skiing tomorrow won’t be too shabby either.

Watch the parade for me.

Watch Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.

Trace your hands with crayons and make paper turkeys.

Listen to appropriate Thanksgiving music:

Dress up like a pilgrim:

Laugh:

[that last one made me laugh out loud.]

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

LOVE.

sparklers.

[first off: realized the link to the song in the previous post wasn’t working… fixed it… click away… trust me.]

Woke up yesterday with a lot of work to do.  Decided I wouldn’t stare at my computer in my pajamas and slowly wake up.

Decided I’d wake early, get dressed, make an ungodly amount of espresso and kick-start my day.  Hell, I even put on mascara.

Sat at the window, so early, with snow everywhere lighting up anything, everything.  A blizzard.

Sitting, working, sipping, watching from above as bundled up bodies trudge their way though all the snow.

It was peaceful.

Staring out the window… a time for reflection.

A friend sent me a video, said it reminded me of him.  These are the best kind of compliments: http://pitchfork.com/tv/%23/musicvideo/9957-sufjan-stevens-too-much-asthmatic-kitty

Stared at a computer all day.  Numb, but quavering.

Listened to this:

[probably cried.]

Finally made myself go out of the house in the late evening.

Did my hair.

Did it again.

Liked it better the first way.

Literally tried to push ⌘ Z… Edit > Undo… in my head… for my hair.

That’s when you know you’ve been working on a computer for too long.

Woke up this morning.  Still numb, but quaking.

So tired.

Threw on WHAT. EVER. to go over to the radio station for my show.

Didn’t really care, didn’t really notice… until I noticed.  Wearing a short person’s bright striped dress and flowered long johns… WOW.

Laughing at myself because I was such a hot mess.

HOT MESS.

Laughing at it all.  Cracking myself up.  Laughing out loud.

Dancing in pajamas.

To old, but favorite songs:

Focusing on the joy.

When life is hard, dark, you have to illuminate the good things just so you can see where you’re going.  Watch your steps fall.  Carry the torches of love, of light.  Juggle the simple joys, the tiny sparklers, to help you see where you need to go.

The dance-worthy songs:

The inspiring reads.

The friendly smiles and randomness.

The out-of-the-blue encouraging emails.

The lovely songs:

The funny text messages.

The memories.

The dreams.

Etc. Etc. Etc.

The sparklers.

Those steps.

and it feels all right.

The Teton County Library is a solid association that I have with Fall in Jackson.

I love it here.

I love watching people studying, seeking, learning, playing, killing time, helping.

My favorite library-goer is close enough to me.  He’s a man.  He’s a bit older than me, a climber I assume… judging by the Pagan Mountaineering shirt and the callouses on his hand.  Why is he my favorite?  He keeps pulling out pack after pack of fruit snacks from his computer bag.

I love it.

The simple innocence of a treat-indulging adult… one pack at a time.

The library is a place where I almost always feel valid.

Art is illuminated.  Music is illuminated.  Community is illuminated.  And I’m basking in it all just by being here.

[this is the point where i wanted to include a rad song so this post wasn’t just a waste of space… but i couldn’t really find it on youtube or soundcloud… so it’s here… and it’s good and worth it: http://hypem.com/track/741986/My+Teenage+Stride+-+Reversal]

just everything.

It’s been a hard time… I won’t lie to you.

Going around in circles asking myself, WHAT AM I DOING?

The off-season combined with free time and just grey… grey all the time, everywhere has driven me crazy.

And, then, whoa… Have you read/seen Revolutionary Road?  My goodness, you should.

I saw it and then wanted to read the book.  So powerful.  Found it in the $1 bin at our library and found it too right.

…which is horribly depressing.  Revolutionary Road is about a couple who fell in love with each other and the dancing and drinking and passion of their 20’s and then followed the American norms and expectations and fell into mediocrity, depression and plastic tree life.

Anywho, it all became too real and the question came up again, WHAT AM I DOING?

I’ll tell you what I’m doing.

CELEBRATING.

Celebrating the love.

Celebrating life.

Celebrating smiles through everything… anything.

Celebrating ridiculousness.

Celebrating preciousness.

Celebrating randomness.

Celebrating coincidence.

Celebrating half birthdays [also, this falls under “ridiculousness”.]

a half beer for a half birthday.

Celebrating a night of drinks over a missed work out.  [catching up, laughing, sharing, TMI, laughing, digging deep to reach in and present this… this is what’s been going on… holding it in your hands.]

Celebrating wishes.  [dreams.]

with a wish-a-saurus.

[p.s. check out those circles under the eyes… maybe i should’ve wished to not look like a raccoon… or wished for more sleep… or… eh… yeeesh.]

Celebrating a foster home.

this is "lotus"... i hate her adoption center name and i love everything else about her. don't worry, i do know i'm not responsible enough to have a dog... just responsible enough to foster one.

Celebrating the now.

Celebrating this.

Celebrating just everything.

[just a taste.]

it tickles.

[and all the sudden, she awoke inside… running through every compartment of her makings, switching on every single light in every flesh-walled compartment… from inside the ankle, to the knee, to the hip, to the inside of the ribs […it tickles], running to the heart [it’s a pull-string switch… pull hard], to where the collar bones kiss, to the tongue, to the inside of that skull, covered in skin, swirling with the dark winds of dark hair… the lights are all switched on… just like that.]

 

Walking home from the radio station this morning, it was new.  There was snow everywhere.  I love the smell of new snow.

In college, I expressed my love for the smell of rain…

– I love the smell of rain.

– You know that’s just the smell of the dirty streets being washed.

– Oh.

What is the smell of snow?  New snow.  Whatever, I love it and it gives me fond flashbacks of skiing and laughing [which always go hand in hand with me].

And it makes me want to play new [mellow] music:

And it makes me want to find new thing that feel and fit too well…

it happens.

And then…

it's new.

 

Found here: http://www.3dtypographybook.com/

 

I also collect heart rocks [who doesn’t?] and was excited to find this from there:

next time won't you sing with me? next time?

 

The newness makes me want to remember/hold old friends:

This Person

Someone is getting excited. Somebody somewhere is shaking with excitement because something tremendous is about to happen to this person. This person has dressed for the occasion. This person has hoped and dreamed and now it is really happening and this person can hardly believe it. But believing is not an issue here, the time for faith and fantasy is over, it is really really happening. It involves stepping forward and bowing. Possibly there is some kneeling, such as when one is knighted. One is almost never knighted. But this person may kneel and receive a tap on each shoulder with a sword. Or, more likely, this person will be in a car or a store or under a vinyl canopy when it happens. Or online or on the phone. It could be an e-mail re: your knighthood. Or a long, laughing, rambling phone message in which every person this person has ever known is talking on a speakerphone and they are all saying, You have passed the test, it was all just a test, we were only kidding, real life is so much better than that. This person is laughing out loud with relief and playing the message back to get the address of the place where every person this person has ever known is waiting to hug this person and bring her into the fold of life. It is really exciting, and it’s not just a dream, it’s real.

They are all waiting by a picnic table in a park this person has driven past many times before. There they are, it’s everyone. There are balloons taped to the benches, and the girl this person used to stand next to at the bus stop is waving a streamer. Everyone is smiling. For a moment this person is almost creeped out by the scene, but it would be so like this person to become depressed on the happiest day ever, and so this person bucks up and joins the crowd.

Teachers of subjects that this person wasn’t even good at are kissing this person and renouncing the very subjects they taught. Math teachers are saying that math was just a funny way of saying “I love you.” But now they are simply saying it, I love you, and the chemistry and PE teachers are also saying it and this person can tell they really mean it. It’s totally amazing. Certain jerks and idiots and assholes appear from time to time, and it is as if they have had plastic surgery, their faces are disfigured with love. The handsome assholes are plain and kind, and the ugly jerks are sweet, and they are folding this person’s sweater and putting it somewhere where it won’t get dirty. Best of all, every person this person has ever loved is there. Even the ones who got away. They hold this person’s hand and tell this person how hard it was to pretend to get mad and drive off and never come back. This person almost can’t believe it, it seemed so real, this person’s heart was broken and has healed and now this person hardly knows what to think. This person is almost mad. But everyone soothes this person. Everyone explains that it was absolutely necessary to know how strong this person was. Oh, look, there’s the doctor who prescribed the medicine that made this person temporarily blind. And the man who paid this person two thousand dollars to have sex with him three times when this person was very broke. Both of these men are in attendance, they seem to know each other. They both have little medals that they are pinning on this person; they are badges of great honor and strength. The badges sparkle in the sunlight, and everyone cheers.

This person suddenly feels the need to check her post office box. It is an old habit, and even if everything is going to be terrific from now on, this person still wants mail. This person says she will be right back and everyone this person has ever known says, Fine, take your time. This person gets in her car and drives to the post office and opens the box and there is nothing. Even though it is a Tuesday, which is famously a good day for mail. This person is so disappointed, this person gets back in the car and, having completely forgotten about the picnic, drives home and checks the voice mail and there are no new messages, just the old one about “passing the test” and “life being better.” There are no e-mails, either, probably because everyone is at the picnic. This person can’t seem to go back to the picnic. This person realizes that staying home means blowing off everyone this person has ever known. But the desire to stay in is very strong. This person wants to run a bath and then read in bed.

In the bathtub this person pushes the bubbles around and listens to the sound of millions of them popping at once. It almost makes one smooth sound instead of many tiny sounds. This person’s breasts barely jut out of the water. This person pushes the bubbles onto the breasts and makes weird shapes with the foam. By now everyone must have realized that this person is not coming back to the picnic. Everyone was wrong; this person is not who they thought this person was. This person plunges underwater and moves her hair around like a sea anemone. This person can stay underwater for an impressively long time but only in a bathtub. This person wonders if there will ever be an Olympic contest for holding your breath under bathwater. If there were such a contest, this person would surely win it. An Olympic medal might redeem this person in the eyes of everyone this person has ever known. But no such contest exists, so there will be no redeeming. This person mourns the fact that she has ruined her one chance to be loved by everyone; as this person climbs into bed, the weight of this tragedy seems to bear down upon this person’s chest. And it is a comforting weight, almost human in heft. This person sighs. This person’s eyes begin to close, this person sleeps.

– Miranda July

And if you’ve made it this far, I’ll tell you that the newness throws me the hope of laughter and preciousness.

Especially when a friend’s three-year-old daughter was crying today because she found out that dinosaurs died.  She drew pictures of dinosaurs dying and just cried.

Oh, no!

I told her that Auntie Rachel wanted to see a picture of dinosaurs dancing.  Please!

She sent back this:

dinosaurs dancing.

Her mom said it definitely helped and she’s not sad about dinosaurs dying anymore.

I told her mom to tell her that dinosaurs are still here in spirit… just like Jesus…

…but then I decided that might not be the best thing to tell a three-year-old.

…unclear why exactly.

And all that laughter and dinosaurs and dancing and preciousness, makes me just want to dance to ridiculousness.

And that’s when this song comes in to play:

…the clean version for momma.  Cuz, Virg, you’re gonna wanna dance to this one.

There’s so much more… I just know it.  But, alas, I’ll leave you with Cee-Lo… best not complain.

 

…in a good way.

On the way to anywhere, sometimes I’ll stop by our local thrift shop… because it’s across the street… and because it’s rad.

Today [YES, TODAY!], I found THESE…

these boots were made for walkin', dancin', scootin', skippin'... okay, mainly dancin'.

I am OB-SESSED.  It’s like I paid $3.50 for a dream come true… a dream I never even knew I had… [trippy, huh?]

Yeah, I love them.  Not sorry.  I met my friend, Anna, for lunch shortly after buying them and the first thing she said was…

– Oh, man… I love those boots!  They look like they were Austin Power’s… in a good way.

Hells yeah, in a good way!

Got me thinking: Who’s boots were these??  Dang, I wanna know.  They’ve definitely got a story… there’s history behind those zippers on one side and snaps on the the other.

Who was this person?  A woman?  Or one amazingly styling cowboy?  Why did they buy these shoes?  A big night out?  Work shoes?  A reward for themselves?  Were they a gift?

Whatever the story, they were loved.  And will continue to be loved.

Another thing that will be forever loved is my new favorite ring…

LOVE it.

And this is great because I know the story.

I’ve had this ring for about a month and a half now.  My old boss/current friend, Geneva, gave me this ring…

me, bardito, geneva... LOVE.

She gave it to me the last day that I watched her little boy before they moved to Denver.  She wrote out why she gave it to me in an amazingly sweet letter.  It used to be her’s and while packing up, found it and thought of me.  She wrote…

“It is now 1am, and I need to go to bed, but I have to write a little more explanation.  My friend’s dad made this ring, and I think it is perfect for you.  The fiery opal is from Australia!  I also think the long lines are made for long, slender, artistic and athletic fingers.  I hope you enjoy it.”

So amazingly sweet.  LOVE.

She later told me it was made in Wyoming.

It IS perfect.

And it, too, will be very much loved.

Don’t know why, but all these old, loved things and how comfortable they are… how they’re here and they always should’ve been, how they fit too well… make me want to listen to this song over and over…

[makes no sense and it’s all so silly… but it’s smiling and it’s loving and it’s being and being well.]

spinning.

A while ago, a friend used the term “spinning my wheels in Jackson” and I thought, Oh man, I will never just spin my wheels… I will be doing something.  DOING.

But lately, that phrase has been haunting me.  Am I just spinning my wheels?

I’m not even blahgging.  I’m doing mediocre work at almost every turn.

And then the WHAT AM I DOING? hauntings… they’re the worst.

But not too bad.

Drove to Boulder to see this kid…

…well, mainly his parents.  I love and miss them all so much.

On the way there, getting the driving-time thinking in [the good stuff], I started wondering, When was the last time I cried?  Like, really cried.

Couldn’t remember.  Meh. Didn’t think too hard about it.

One of the days in Boulder, Evan and I went climbing in El Dorado Canyon.  It stormed a bit so we just hung out, ate lunch in a cave, hung out.  Then it was time to climb.  Time to climb something easy and quick to get back to dinner with loved ones.

It was easy EASY, so I was going to lead the first pitch.

I went up, went up a bit more and in the least technical terms, I fell.  I fell hard.*

And I just started bawling.  I wasn’t hurt, nothing serious at all… just some gnarly bruises, but I just fell apart.  Evan, bless his soul, was freaked the eff out.

– Are you okay?!  Rach!!  Are you alright?!

– I’m fine.  I’m okay.  What’s wrong with me??!  [bawling.]

– Nothing!… I hope!  Come down here!

– No.  I wanna stay here for a little bit.

– Okay.

Everything had crashed.

I didn’t want to go up, I didn’t want to go down, I just wanted to be invisible there for a second.  Everything had crashed and I had to soak it in for a second.

What is wrong with me?  Why can’t I do this?  Why can’t I do anything?  WHAT AM I DOING?!  What am I ever doing?

The pain of defeat and realization hit harder than I did on the rock.

– Rach, will you please come down?  Let’s just go.

– Okay.

He hugged me.  I didn’t want to hug back.  It’s this funny thing defeat does.  Lack of worth for anything love related.

It took me a full day of puffy eyes to stop beating myself up for falling, for spinning, for not going up, not going down.

But I’m not anymore.  I won’t.

Wheels in motion… going somewhere.

[and this, just for kicks…]


* Mom, Dad, I promise promise I’m fine.  I’m being safe.