Growing apart...to grow together.

I am very close with my family. So, Monday, I am flying home for some bonding. Only my sister and I can bond on a level unexplainable. I can't wait. I love her children more than all of the grilled cheese on wheat (my favorite food) on God's great earth so I am stoked to say the least. Recently my sisters family has been going through some though situations. Since I am on summer break I have decided to go home for a few weeks to lend my hand, heart, patience, and shoulder to her. It's funny growing up we went through these stages...first when she was born I hated her! Who was this alien looking creature here to take over my parents attention? But soon as she grew, she grew on me and I loved helping take of her. Then as we went through elementary school she was my best friend. We did everything together, had to have the same colors of everything. If I ordered chicken fingers with a baked potato and salad with Ranch dressing, she ordered the same. If I wanted mint chocolate chip ice cream, so did she. If I wore braids in my hair, She wanted to wear braids in hers. To sidestep my copy-cat ways (or perhaps just to be mean), I would often insist that she order her meal in the restaurant first. Or, I would order something, she would order the same and I would then change my mind and order something else.
Like most older siblings, I could be cruel. When we got to high school we were totally opposites. I was the preppy athlete, she was the sloppy skater wanna be. We Clashed!! I would ignore her in the hallways all the time, she would yell, "Hey SIS!", I hated her. I wish she would just go away and never come back again. I was so embarrassed by her. Maybe I was this way because she always looked up to me, and I liked that. My own sister made me feel so special and popular. What I realize now is that we had to become our own people, and grow apart to again grew back together.
Anyway, the day I left for college she rode in my car with me, and we followed my parents. I had no idea what I was going to talk to her about for 2 and half hours. I hated her. She hated me. But something crazy happened in that car ride. I don't quite remember what or how it started, but we just started talking, and singing and laughing. God works in mysterious ways! As we arrived on campus she said, "I hope your ready for this!", and I replied, "Bring it on!"....we unpacked and then went to eat. Most awkward meal of my life. My dad was crying, my mom was quite and not really eating, my sister and I just staring at each other, knowing we were both thinking just say something! The meal ended and I was left alone. I started praying for all the obvious things a 18 year old would pray for in a new place knowing no one. A few hour later the phone rang....my sister. I was so relived! From that day on we talked everyday, sometimes 3 times. Again we needed space to grow apart, to grow together!
She is my best friend. She has always been there for me even when I treated her like my greatest nemesis. Unlike my sister, I have a stubborn grip on optimism and the belief that, if you are nice to people, they will treat you in kind. My sister is more of a realist and, as a result, tends to get hurt a lot less than me. This brings me to the only reason I am dreading our visit. The reasons I am going there run deep, and I will remain them to her privacy. But our conversations will run deep, and I may get frustrated and hurt. I ask god for the strength to see her side, and understand what she has been going through for the past 8 years, and in turn give her the strength and enlightenment that she needs, and is seeking from me.
So, as much as I want and need to spend time with my sister and let her be with someone who loves her unconditionally and makes her laugh like nobody's business, I am afraid. I want so badly to tell her how I have been feeling because I know that she, more than anyone else in this world, wants me to guide her. At the same time, however, I know my sister will not sugar coat the situation and any guidance I provide may get burnt in her burning fire.
Bottom Line goes without saying.....I have been graduated from college for 5 years now, and moved away from home for 5 years now. We were growing apart only by distance, and growing together by sisterhood, age, and wisdom. So let growing apart, let us grow together on this visit home. Love you sister!

play..don't let him get you

Take a risk every day, even if it's small. Get home a different way, take a new path; you'll see new things. Sometimes when my friends and I go out, we make a dare for the night. I'm not revealing what we've dared one another, so don't ask. I've begun to dare myself lately. Be bolder. Do what scares you. Do what's hard. The Devil throws these challenges at us, to test us I believe. To test our character, our strengths, our person. Do not let him get you!
I went to the beach this morning and I was cranky. What's wrong with me? I should be happy. I just married the man that makes me smile everyday, I have agreat job, a beautiful new house. I was restless. I don't play enough. I need to change that. When is the last time you really played? So I got up, walked to the water, got wet, then decided to build a drippy droopy sand castle. I dug a moat and built a bridge. I'd forgotten that when you dig in the sand, deep enough, you hit a layer of shellso rock before you hit water. I loved relearning that. I was building a sand castle by myself, for no reason at all. For play. Who does that? I did.
A fifth grade girl named Margaret joined me to help. "Wow, fifth grade. When I was in fifth, we were learning cursive.""Golly, I learned that in like second grade." She was chewing grape gum and offered me a piece. "Well, don't feel bad, times are different now." We talked about her school and how she just got her ears pierced. "Not at Claire's. Their biggest selling accessory is infection." I began to blink. Was I hearing things? "That's what my mom says." She then told me her mother's cancer was in remission and how her friend Debbie is getting a second hole in her ear. "But she's allowed because she is handicapped."
Our conversation reminded me of how much I have to be thankful for. I was also glad, for the first time in my life, that I had short weakass nails... all the better to play in the sand with. A moat is a good time. Go play.

a nod to sunscreen and flossing

I'm drunk on Patron that's been filtered through a watermelon and subsequently mixed over a frozen margarita. I had to disclose this, so what's to follow will make sense to someone. This all came after I drove home from Atlanta, after having dinner and drinks with my girlfriends I had not seen in 3 weeks. Conversation started about "What we wish we knew then, that we do now"...... I was sitting here wondering what would I say, if I could, to my younger self. You know, if we went for drinks at a Mexican joint (this place, Rosa Mexicano, Atlantic Station, is hardly a joint), and I began a sentence with, "Okay, there's something you should know..." what would follow? See, it's easy to tent a blanket of "don't take life so seriously" on it, but that's like telling someone to "just relax". The words are there, we hear them, but they don't make us feel any differently. It's too easy. It's lazy advice. If I could I would only say be like Job, he was always faithful no matter what was thrown at him, and was just a great guy. People looked at Job when he was wealthy and healthy and said he was a righteous man, and likewise did the Lord.

StraIGHT Up...MeLiSsA

So now that I am married...I guess I am move on from Journal Writing, Prayer Journals, MySpace Blog, and just write on a blog....I mean it is 2008 right. So to open it just a little bit about me and then I swear they will be more interesting and upbeat. I really love some of my old stuff so that may find its way back here, more elaborated.

Here it goes...............
When I write something brilliant, I actually kiss the screen (okay, sometimes I lick it). There is nothing I derive more pleasure from than writing. Okay, seex and food so don't count. My job. Touching bark, grass stains, campfires, fireflies, swings.Blender foamed hot chocolate with real marshmallows.Lit fireplaces, playing board games, smartwool socks. Manicures, a great blow out, the perfect outfit in its bag waiting for the evening, shoes still boxed. Losing the used to be's, train rides, strangers, quilting, my nephews. My legs after I exfoliate, grapefruit lotion in summer, rose oil in winter, memories of climbing into bed with my parents. Tea sandwiches, cucumber ice water, lavender eye mask, Egyptian cotton robe, slippers. Singing in the car, cream cheese frosting, convertibles, bing cherries, lemonade stands, awnings, rosemary, vegetable gardens, sprinklers, jelly jars, Italian signs, linen. Driving for ice cream, ballgames and frankfurters, picnics, upstate to watch the leaves. Jersey tomatoes, vodka sauce. Finding things in common, soup, movie hopping, wine tastings. Witty slang, Starbucks with Todd and Kristen, when Danny takes out his balls, girls nights, im chats with Pete. Recipes with Mom, Phone calls from old friends you thought were gone, Artichokes with drawn butter( The best in Utah), Room service, well-done French fries, blueberry picking, doing nothing.Returning home after a week away, speaking to Monroes' belly and kissing her bald spot.High thread count sheets, gerbas by the bed, naps, the smell of beer can roasted chicken.Laughing until it pisses everybody off, tasting menus, dinner parties, thoughtful gifts. Wine. Personalized stationery, calligraphy, piano bars, children's books, finger painting, Lego's.Fresh cut fruit in a bowl in my fridge, watching lifetime movies, my bed.Christmas music year-round (my favorite: baby it's cold outside), old-fashioned grilled cheese sandwiches, Parlors. Spicy nachos from the movie theatre, girlie movies, Evo's, the Fall.B eing sore from too much seex, having faceburn from his stubble after a day of kissing. Chicken pot pie, Champagne, Christmas time. Cooking for people who love to eat, butterscotch pudding, cookbooks, honey. Silver stars, Garters, Nervenkitt Jewelry, my teeth, thanksgiving, ribbons in my hair. MONROE. Blender drinks, tall drinking glasses, rectangular plates, garnish, mini hamburgers, playing Cranium, cookouts, clambakes on the ocean, cokctail hour, banana curls, letters, when he calls, listening to songs on repeat, meatballs, my humus, staring, compliments, pixie dust, sleeping bags, acoustic guitar, crying, breathing, sitting on the floor in a meeting, being able not to care and saying it, caring, a new toothbrush, boat rides, skinny dipping, fishing, being able to keep adding to this list, being me.

Ready or Not.........

Here I am! All my life stories, experiences, and interactions! ready or not.....here I come!

Anxiety Sucks

I've noticed that the more news I hear the more I tend to worry. Really, it's hard to keep up with what we're supposed to be worrying about. should we worry about the plain-vanilla flu or Bird Flu? Should we worry about a recession, A Depression, a global financial meltdown? Is there a child predator in our neighborhood or a crazed kidnapper lurking in our city? Is that pain in my side some rare disease? Perhaps the one I saw advertised on TV just last night. Perhaps I should ask my doctor..... Or perhaps, I remind myself that statistically our children have never been safer, we have never been healthier and our nation has never been wealthier. It is, by almost all measures, the best of times. So perhaps what I should do is turn off the TV, shut down the computer, ignore the alarmist headlines and do what I can: Go for a hike, buckle up, buckle up my children, eat well...most of the time, lend a helping hand, get some sleep, express gratitude. Perhaps then I'll see that we are, in fact, doing just fine.

Dear C, and Mean drunk

I'm not an affectionate drunk but a hostile one. It begins sweet and loving then corners demanding throughout the night. I'm a demanding drunk. Tell me you love me. Let me show you how I love you. It's too in your face. And shit, sometimes I just cry. But mostly, I've never been called a bad drunk, have never hurt anyone, except myself once in a bad skipping accident which landed me in the emergency room. I received a text message today from a male friend, at 9:10 am, asking, "What does it mean when a girlfriend is nicest to you when she is drunk? Would appreciate your honest opinion." Well now. I'd pull up my sleeves and take this on, thriving, as I do, over relationship questions.

Before I share my advice, give him yours because he needs it. Oh, and I know as much about them as you do. Nothing.

Not that I need to, now that the boy has gotten an earful, but as promised, here was my take on it--it's along the lines of what everyone else has said:

It means she pretty much sucks the rest of the time, so keep her liquored up. Well, it's never that simple, or we never let it be, but that's essentially what you're saying. That really, you don't like how she treats you while she's sober. Maybe it's her guard, insecurity, but whatever the reason and whatever we analyze it to be, it doesn't change the fact that you prefer her when she's drunk, because it's then that she's actually nice. That should tell you a little something about how you feel about her.

Too often in relationships we tend to focus on analyzing the other person's behavior, trying to decode their everything. So much so that we sometimes neglect focusing on how we feel, independent on how they feel for us. It's a fear, maybe, of being more vulnerable. Now maybe, as sad as this is, maybe she just feels lonesome and sad for herself when she'd drunk, so she needs more, gives more to get more, using alcohol and you as a crutch, a stand-in to make her feel upright and good about herself. But that might be a little too much analyzing, even for me. The key here is, I imagine your asking has very little to do with her feelings for you and more to do with how alcohol affects her temperament. And as I've stated, how you feel about her. So it says more about you, as does asking the advice of me, instead of just speaking with her outright about all of it. But perhaps that's a lesson for another time.

Long hair on men, eh

.The other night I watched one of the best movies I'd seen in a long time. Not Shawshank best, or Sense & Sensibility best, not even Tootsie best--more like Fried Green Tomatoes best. A total chick flick that left me crying that good cry. The perfect blend of quirky, crave, sass, and hormone treatment, Waitress is a ridiculously adorable film with snappy dialog and peculiar characters so endearing that it makes you want to up and leave the house in a bathrobe to make new friends. If you ask me, there aren't nearly enough over the top, I don't give a rat's testicle what you think of me people. (Do rats have testicles?) Sick, now all I can think of is that little silver ball inside an etch-a-sketch.

I want to go bake pies, to slice up a bunch of peaches on a brand new wooden block, to muddle berries and fold them into a drape of chocolate, and dammit, I want to meet more characters that tell it like it is, don't give a hoot what all you have to say about their business, people who say "what all." And then I want to sing to my babies and put on a yellow dress.

Aside from the strange on purpose people in the film, I found myself rooting for things I'm morally opposed. It's like those movies where you want the killer to get off on a technicality. You don't want them to get caught. You want their sick twisted bank robbery to go off without a snag. You want them to get away with the diamonds or the other woman's husband. Or you're psyched when Sawyer shoots Zeek in the head. Yeah, PSYCHED someone was killed.

What I learn when I watch these films is no matter how staunch my moral convictions, I begin to question them after movies like this. Maybe I can find my way across the line and somewhat understand, even side with, "the other woman." And while I love the ability of art to force me to reconsider things, one thing ain't changin': men who wear their hair down to the middle of their backs are not, ever, appealing.

Becoming a true women........

A good woman is proud of herself. She respects herself and others. She is aware of who she is. She neither seeks definition from the person she is with, or does she expect them to read her mind. She is quite capable of articulating her needs. A good woman is hopeful. She is strong enough to make all her dreams come true. She knows love, therefore she gives love. She recognizes that her love has great value and must be reciprocated. If her love is taken for granted, it soon disappears. A good woman has a dash of inspiration, a dabble of endurance. She knows that she will, at times, have to inspire others to reach the potential God gave them. A good woman knows her past, understands her present and moves toward the future. A good woman knows God. She knows that with God the world is her playground, but without God she will just be played. A good woman does not live in fear of the future because of her past. Instead, she understands that her life experiences are merely lessons, meant to bring her closer to self knowledge and unconditional self love.