Cowgirls

Cowgirls game, Nikon Coolpix 4500

After my crumbling girl entry, Rachel dared me to do something this weekend that I hadn’t done in a long time. I loved being armed with this challenge as I moved through my days.

Here are the things I did this weekend that made me feel 10 years younger:

1. Woke up early every morning and took long beach walks, collecting seaglass and shells and rocks with holes in them.

2. Had my sister “play with my hair” and put makeup on me.

3. Ate pot cookies

4. Drank cosmopolitans

5. Did handstands, cartwheels, AND one front walkover in the sand.

6. Played a game called Cowgirls that involves answering personal questions. We discovered that not one, not two, but THREE of us had racy stories involving famous people. My favorite was the one about David Copperfield.

7. Ate chips and dip, gummy bears, ice cream and pretzels.

8. Had a little Soul Train style dance party where I found myself in the middle of the circle “popping and locking.” (I was a little too good at it. Not enough irony.)

9) Taped a sign, written on a paper towel, to my sister’s back that said, “Kiss me. I’m a bachelorette.”

P.S. I am sworn to secrecy about the David Copperfield thing.

the bachelorette

Caroline and Matthew, Canon A1

Off to my sister's bachelorette party this weekend in Stinson Beach!

Yes, it's true. We're getting married one weekend apart. I hope my parents
don't explode from all of the pleasure.

Crumbling girl

self portrait, Nikon Coolpix 4500

I’ve been feeling older lately.

I’ve actually noticed lines on my face that were never there, that quite literally, appeared a few weeks ago. There are also the occasional grey hairs, which for some reason, I don’t mind. I like to pluck them and examine each silver filament. Maybe I will start to save them, paste these angelic threads into my journal, until there are simply too many too paste.

And then there’s the teeth. Something felt strange in my mouth on Saturday. Upon further examination (me, mouth wide, showing my friends) it was confirmed- part of one of my bottom teeth was missing and a rough edge remained. Only a chip really, but how did it happen? Are parts of my body just falling off now? Am I crumbling slowly but surely?

Is this what aging is?

I am caught in this middle place, where I’m not sure if I’m a kid, a girl, or a woman. When I chat with my mom and refer to my “women friends,” she gets confused about who I’m talking about. She thinks I’m suddenly spending all my time with her contemporaries. It even sounds awkward to me. When did I become a woman?

Lately I’ve been feeling like I’ve lost something, some part of me, some lighthearted, joyful part of me, with all of this adult stuff about getting married and running a business and people getting sick and all that...

I was talking with a dear friend yesterday and I never asked her the question that was on the tip of my tongue, “Where has my joy gone?”
I just couldn’t ask, or explain what I even meant by it. I just know it has something to do with aging and worry and crumbling teeth and being afraid of moving forward into adulthood.

I want to stay being a girl forever.

Peace

Easter Sunday, San Francisco Nikon Coolpix 4500

Peace out.

Easter lily

from the Passmore's garden, san francisco

I guess life can't be all that bad when beautiful creatures like this exist in it.

Signs

coffee cup, Canon A-1

I saw a man in the foam of my cappuccino this morning.

It was a perfect line drawing like a New Yorker cartoon, just staring up at me. Do you think this is a sign?

I’m always looking for signs, secrets hidden in the details, in the ordinary-ness, that will show me the way, point me in the right direction.

Sometimes they are obvious. You might wonder if your idea for a book is good, if it is worthy of being published, and then an agent calls and asks to represent you. Clear sign the book should be made.

But most of the time, the signs are more subtle. Tiny, serendipitous events that could be chalked up to chance, but maybe, you think, just maybe, could it be... magic? It’s just too weird, right? This thing happening, then that, and it HAS to mean something. Or does it?

Several years ago, I was telling a friend at work that I wanted to meet my favorite singer/songwriter Ben Harper. I gushed at his brilliance, his sensitive lyrics, his gorgeousness. (Okay, I also had a teeny weeny little crush on him)

Anyway, two hours later, I left work, decided to take an alternate bus route home, and hopped on the 22 Fillmore. Guess who was sitting next to me? You guessed it. Ben freaking Harper.

I thrive on these things happening to me. They are like signs of a rightness about the universe, like somehow everything is going to be okay, because I am on my path, in the groove, flowing... It's like a huge thumb rising up out of the clouds and shouting, "Right on!"

I get so deliriously happy when this happens.

Now what do you think the little cappuccino man could mean?

all the colors

gumballs, nikon coolpix 4500

Spring colors for Superhero Designs are coming soon!

angel boy

vintage found photo

I am fascinated by other peoples' photographs. I can get lost for hours in the stacks of dusty old prints you find at the swap meet. I search, inhaling that old book smell, until my fingers are black with dust.

I found this photo at the Alemany flea market in San Francisco. The way it's printed gives it a dreamy quality, elevated, like this boy is a 1950's angel.

Slowing down

Photo by Dawn Mikulich, I am slowing down

I’ve been using the above photograph by Dawn Mikulich as the background on my desktop all week. These words, “I am slowing down” have brought me enormous comfort these days. I think they saved my life.

I’m a compulsive “do-er.” Even as I sit and write this, I have squeezed this task into the few minutes between cooking for a birthday party and going to it. I have a hard time not being productive.

Yoga helps. I breathe, stretch, and allow energy to move through me so it doesn’t get all blocked up. But I rarely just stop. I feel guilty, lazy, unmotivated.
Society has a lot of judgment about taking time off and taking care of yourself. (Words that come to mind are "slacker, spoiled, self-indulgent, unproductive)
This language keeps the dynamic in place...

A few days ago, I was so stressed out that I had what I call the “hospital fantasy.” This happens when you are so overwhelmed with the doing, the worry, the speed and intensity of life that you just want to get off the ride for a while. I create this twisted fantasy of being in the hospital where I don’t have to DO anything anymore, where people will take care of me, where there will be no expectation about what I “produce.”
(note: I am clear this is irrational and the fantasy is not to be taken too literally)

Nevertheless, I think I’ve created illness this way and clearly don't want to do that. How many times have you gotten a cold and thought, "My body must be run down. I guess I was doing too much."

Why can’t we give ourselves the gift of stopping, of slowing down, before we get sick?

Barbie weddings

brides, Nikon Coolpix 4500

I had a dream the other night that I was at my sister's wedding and there was a partially nude photograph of her in the program. My mom, shocked, leaned over and whispered to me, "Did you know about this?" and I said, "Oh my God. Maybe she thought it was 'artsy'."

Also included in the program was a plastic sleeve filled with tiny gold candles. They were to be burned for the worries of the mothers, to burn away all that would stand in the way of this marriage working well.

In the dream I felt envious that my sister thought of this ritual and I didn't. I wanted all of the worries burned before I got married too. All of Matt's worries, my worries, worries about the future (what happens when we have kids?) worries about the present (are things "perfect" enough to get married?)

But maybe that's just life. You make choices, you make commitments, worries and all.

Before Matt asked me to marry him, he kept waiting for this moment, this right moment when he would have no doubts at all, no fears, no worries... and then he would pop the question.

But that moment never came, and he realized that one day you just do it. You pop the question in the face of those fears.

And the amazing thing is those fears slowly began to dissolve...

A site I like:
Indie Bride

Oh, and the answer to puzzle from this week:
In order from left to right: Ric, (my dear roommate) Grant (studies penguins in Antarctica every year) and Matt (the one who asked me to marry him) Thank you for your comments on this!

Tres Mustaches

boys, Nikon Coolpix 4500

One of these boys is the love of my life, one is my roommate, and one just got back from four months in Antarctica studying penguins.

Can you guess which one is which?

Hitting

ranunculus, Nikon Coolpix 4500

Hitting

Yesterday, while I rode the BART train downtown, a woman tried to get her 2-year- old to sit in his stroller. He was crying and wriggling around and the woman was getting more and more incensed, shoving him into the stroller, whacking him on the legs, picking him up, hurling him back into the seat again, hitting him on the back, hard, over and over again...

We all watched this scene frozen in our seats, eyes wide, shocked, not knowing what to say.

Finally, a man walked slowly up the aisle, kneeled down beside her, and said calmly, “I know this is a frustrating situation for you, but you can’t hit him.”

She began to cry then, and stuttered through an explanation about how the child was hitting her and he won’t get in his seat, etc.

The man repeated, very gently and very matter of factly, “I understand this is frustrating for you, and you can’t hit him.”

She stopped. The baby stopped crying. And then she got off the train.

Through the hot tears that poured down my face as I left, I felt so grateful for this man for teaching me something so important, so fundamental and beautiful about how to serve... I didn’t know what to say, if it was my “place” to say anything, if this woman would get even more angry if I did. And so I was silent.

It made me think of all of the places in my life where I’m not saying anything, and maybe I should be. It made me think of the war, and how we are watching this violence, sometimes like silent bystanders, amazed and horrifed that it’s even happening.

It made me think that someone needs to kneel beside our world leaders and say,
“Hey. I know this is a frustrating situation, but you can’t hit them.”

My first love

austin, texas Nikon Coolpix 4500

My first love was named Albie. I met him the day that he and his friend Scott dared each other to wear only bikini underwear and make phone calls from the phone booth in front of the local movie theater.

He had bleached white hair, surfed and skimboarded (I grew up in Santa Cruz) and sang in a punk band.

He was outrageous and creative and I adored him.

He took me to the prom in an ice cream truck. He actually hired the ice cream man to chauffeur us around for the night. I’ll never forget the feeling of being piled on laps amidst the popsicles and ice cream sandwiches...

Belly

Kimba's belly, Canon A1

It's amazing how quickly time goes by. I just got this roll of film developed and there was Kim's belly all big and naked and beautiful.

Now there's Liam, even more beautiful than words.

But in case you like words, he has his own blog.

Birdcall

PRACTICE THIS NEW BIRDCALL

The way we live opens windows
And calls in a secret voice to anything
Still missing.

There is nothing in your mind
You have not invited in.

There is no event in your life
You in some way
Did not drive a hard bargain for.

We were all once like moons,
Often full and bright.

The heart, in its wisdom,
Ceaselessly shops for
Him.

The wise in any foreign country
seek a true guide.

The guide says,

"Just practice this new birdcall,
It will attract to you
something even
Greater than

Love."
----HAFIZ