Friday, May 28, 2010



Today I went to a super bitchin' coffee shop here in the LA area called Swork. There is an umlaut. I do not know how to create an umlaut. If you're curious, I linked you up, follow at will. If you didn't, just imagine the two dots adorning the w. Which is weird, right? Don't umlaut's usually live on vowel's? The exciting part about Swork is not it's odd lil' name, it's that it features a sweet little play area for shorties. Complete with endless blocks and other goodies, it's pure awesome I tell you. But I digress, as I often do.

So I'm walking into this place to meet a dear, dear friend and her almost 3 year old dude and I'm doing the purse/diaper bag/22 pound baby juggle so I'm a little out of breath and off kilter. Not that it's a good excuse, but there it is.

I see this dude on a go-cart scooting up the sidewalk. He's on a go-cart! Going 20! On the sidewalk! But what's more interesting is that the dude is like 45. But not an interesting 45, more like a frat boy all growed up 45. So I'm thinking something like this....

"OK dude, you are WAAAAYYY too old to be driving a go-cart".

I mean, wouldn't you?

But that's the problem. It was kind of a mean spirited (ok quite) thought and I'm not usually such a person as this. But there I was all juggley and judgey and I swear to you the following happened. As I walked by the guy said to me:

"I know, I'm too old".

So busted!

So I sorta laugh and turn toward him and I'm about to apologize for what I said except that I quickly realize that I didn't actually say anything so instead I offer a halfhearted apology in the form of a laugh-turn-and-acknowledge as I stumble by with the unreasonable load of crap and cute hanging off my shoulders and arms.

I ask you - is nothing sacred? Is my bad mood private thinking no longer an option? If every thought I think is out for public consumption (um hello, the fact that I'm putting this on a blog is not lost on me, I know I'm ridiculous) I'm seriously in trouble.

I'm going to try to live tomorrow as a transparent mind. It will be a delightful experiment and I will share the results. But here is a little sampling from today:

  • "This June gloom matches my mood beautifully. Sure I hate everyone and everything but at least this diffused lighting is flattering on all of us."
  • "I love my friends, they are ridiculously great. I'm annoyed at their greatness. Will I ever find new friends this great?"
  • "Good grief this is a cute kid. I love his soft white limbs, they are like white bread. Umm, white bread."

and other hits.

And finally, I'll leave you with the reason I love facebook. Today I posted this quote from The Prophet by Kahil Gilbran.

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep in your heart the miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy. And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief."

and got this response.

To proceed very far through the desert, you must be willing to meet existential suffering and work it through. In order to do this, the attitude toward pain has to change. This happens when we accept the fact that everything that happens to us has been designed for our spiritual growth.— M. Scott Peck

And two things happened. I thought, how weird! I'm moving to the desert. And then I thought. And there must be a higher reason. But you probably knew that's what I was thinking.

Cloak and Derwood,

PS - Here is a little spot of joy from my afternoon yesterday.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

7 Year Itch

The longest I've ever lived in one spot is 8 years. 1st grade through 8th grade I lived in Texas. Houston, y'all, it was awesome.

Runner up? Seattle for 7 years. Next runner up? This current beautiful and ridiculous city for 7 years. Perhaps the constant movement of my childhood has set up this little timer in my gut that goes off and rattles my brain and my life and off I go. 

St Louis, 6. San Diego, 5. And then there was that Florida adventure - 6. I'm not saying when what happened but I think what I'm really missing when you look at the US map is the northeast. 

My foot n' shadow. Perceptions aren't always accurate. Something to think about...
The move from Houston to Florida was the hardest. I had finally gotten to be one of the cool kids, finally shook off my uncool-fat-kid-rep and was sorta popular. FINALLY for effin' sake, why would parents move a little girl out of such a precarious spot as the teetering of actual popularity? And then make her to go to a filled-in swamp for high school and start over? Oh sure, Houston was a swamp too, that's an interesting thing to note. They promised to buy me a horse. They didn't do it. But bribe's work man - not that I had a choice.

Anyway, I'm feeling a lot like that little 13 year old girl right now. I mean, we are finally making some headway with our dream here - (our film is coming along swimmingly, thanks for asking) and I have many dear friends that I love so much it hurts my heart to even pack a box. I've had a headache for two days from too much crying. (or perhaps it's caffeine issues, can't be sure)

But the bets are going down now for how long we can stay away. The shortest I've heard is 6 months, someone else suggested a year. I predict we'll come back in 5-6 years, but you know, what the hell do I know? I'm just the one renting the moving truck.

I just want to be settled when BHB gets to school age. It's only fair.

13 going on 39,