Da Goddess

I’ve been blogging for 11 years at this point. It’s a rather curious thing to me to still be at it after all this time.

I’m certain I’m no better a writer than I was when I started, but I know I’m a better editor for it. I’m no better a person than I was when I started, but I’m far more enriched by the friends I’ve made along the way. I hope in some way I’m a better friend as the result — not from blogging, but from the lessons of their friendship. I’m happier now than I was when I began. Sure, there have been many changes in my life along the way, but I am finally content to be who I am, proud of the two children who inhabit my heart, loving the right man, being loved by the right man, living in the right home, and just…to be.

There is no guarantee of where I’ll be tomorrow or the next day, week, month, or year. There is no guarantee of anything in this life (except death, no?). Yet, because of this blog, because of the wonderful friends and discoveries I’ve made along the way, I’m okay without any guarantees.

Don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to the next adventure lying around the next corner. And, I hope you’ll still be around the campfire for the tales as they arise.

…I wonder how good they can be. How do they know when they’re done?

I ran into an old boyfriend today as I was leaving my mom’s house. Seeing this man always makes me super reflective and today was no different. Except that we laughed so hard over the “blind cleaners” truck he saw earlier. Our responses were exactly the same. Yeah, I do tend to attract like minds.

But back to this man and how I end up feeling after I see him. Because this is a tough thing for me. Part of me truly regrets not being a better judge of character and sticking with him — a good guy — instead of being aloof and just generally not the kind of person he always imagined me to be. He’s held me in high esteem all these years. And I do mean YEARS. As in 30. At least.

Yeah, weird, huh?

I still beat myself up about being young and foolish, young and stupid.

Because I wish I had been half the person he thought I was back then.

Deep down, I know I was a good person. But I was skittish and flighty and not as respectful to kind people as I wish I had been. I wish I had been nicer to him, had let him down more easily, had been more honest with myself even in not knowing whether or not I was ready for a Good Guy in My Life. That’s a very specific time in a young woman’s life, is it not?

So whenever I see my delivery man (who once showed me a photo of his “I married her because she reminded me of you” wife), I reflect long and hard about who I was and who I am.

Right now, I can’t say everything in life is perfect, but I can say I’m happy to be a parent to two really lovely children, the former wife of a man who was once my best friend, a daughter who loves her parents, an occasionally nice sister, and a woman who has borne the wear and tear of life with some modicum of dignity. I’ve made it through 46+ years. I’ve learned how NOT to treat people. How NOT to hurt them. How it’s better to be quiet sometimes, and speak loudly at other times. I’ve learned a lot and grown over time. I’m still making mistakes, but hopefully making fewer, and hopefully not repeating the same ones over and over again.

Thus, I came away from my encounter today wistful and smiling more than I usually do after I see my friend. I feel better than I normally do because I am more confident in who I am, warts and all.

I’ve taken off my blinders and cleaned up my act, I guess you could say. And that ties in almost as well as one could hope with the title of the post.

I’m going back to my music and memories, dwelling there just a bit longer, for no other reason than to keep my future on track.

P.S. Does anyone else ever think “wistful” should be spelt with an “h”…as in “whistful”?

Just some odd musings, spurred on mostly through conversations about kids with Pam.

Loving is what’s gut-wrenching. Motherhood/fatherhood/parenthood are just words. It’s the love that makes life exciting. What’s that quote from Parenthood? Gil and the grandmother are talking… (thank God for IMDB!!)

Grandma: You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.
Gil: Oh?
Grandma: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride!
Gil: What a great story.
Grandma: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.

Once you give your heart away, you worry a little bit about whether or not it’ll come back. It does. But not in the way you think. It comes back to you in the form of love from others. It’s a great big game of give and take. You give a little, you gain a little.

Still, you worry about the pieces of your heart you’ve given away. With our children, they become walking, talking whirlwinds that careen about, bumping and bruising the heart with each fall, every tear. You can’t help but hurt along with them.

Sometimes you almost wish you could take your heart back…only for a little bit. Just to catch your breath. Just to have a moment where you don’t feel it beating out of your chest. But then, after a while, you learn your heart only gets stronger because of the journey it’s taken with those who’ve held your love so very close them.

When you realize that, you kind of learn to love the adventure.

It’s now day #2 without my fuzzy friend Max here.

We took care of the gangly dog without confidence again. He was here for four days. I didn’t want to return him to his people. I ruv him. But he was very happy to have his people back and that’s the right thing to do. He did super well with us this time around and settled in right away.

Now I must go find myself another fuzzy friend to hang around with until he returns.

Ryan Bingham

Holy moly.

Fantastic concert.

He sang “Hallelujah” during his encore. Think he did four or five songs for the encore. Solo. It was amazing.

Don’t know who Ryan is? Try this song (which he did NOT play at the show, but everything else was so good it didn’t matter):

Opening the show was honeyhoney. Lead singer Suzanne gave me a copy of their CD and I fell in love with the band even more.

I like “Angel of Death” but I think my favorite is “Don’t Know How”

Don’t get me wrong, I like their livelier stuff, too! But these two songs just kill me in a way I can’t explain.

Bonus videos

Super special thanks to The Fat Guy for being the one to first introduce me to the music of Ryan Bingham years ago.

That crazy cracker, Rob, would have been 61 today.

I don’t know about you, but I miss him. I find myself thinking, often, of what he’d be writing if he were still with us. I know he’d have some choice words about everything.

His absence hit me especially hard the other day when I heard Jim Croce’s “Operator”. Just seemed like a song written specifically for his broken heart.

I hope wherever Rob happens to be is a place where he is free of heartache and physical pain. He was a complicated man with a beautiful soul.

Happy birthday, my friend.

I truly intended to have something deep and thoughtful posted here today. I just fell way short. WAAAAAAY short. But I decided I’m okay with my failure to blog contenty-rich content. Instead, I’ve used my two cups of jasmine green tea buzz to do laundry and clean and make croutons and bread crumbs. In 80 degree weather.

The house smells yummy.

Last night, I made meatloaf. The house smelled yummy then, too.

As for Valentine’s Day, I got a hand delivered card and two kisses from one of my dearest friends. And a double handful of Valentine texts. Sent a lot of those myself. The texts, that is.

Oh yeah, after my doctor appointment the other day I had an interview. I think it went well. FINGERS CROSSED! And then I went to the mall to exchange some Christmas gifts. (Hey, this is quick for me, considering it took me until JUNE last year!) Best find: adorable blouse for $22 — it was basically a tank with a poncho. Totally not something I’d ever thought of trying on or getting in the past, however, it fit me well and looked super cute. I didn’t get it though because the BETTER find was a bra for $5 (yes! It was an awesome bra that fit me perfectly) and three pairs of panties for $2 each. Also, I managed to find a pair of earrings for $4. Plus, I used a bit of my credit to get my dad the right sized pan he needed. It was a bit more expensive than the one I returned but now he has the right one and he’s happy. Wish I could have done all that AND the blouse. Oh well. I’m hoping the Good Fairy drops it my path again at some point.

And now we return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

I’m a horrible blogger. Really, truly horrible.

It’s not because I don’t care. Honest. I DO care.

I just haven’t had any luck setting up my wifi. And the neighbors moved. The ones with the best wifi signal in the neighborhood. Plus, the dog ate my homework.

Well, okay, maybe the dog didn’t eat my homework, but I swear there was a dog involved! We dogsat yesterday. And the sweet guy is NOT what you’d call a confident houseguest. He was up most of the night. And I was up with him.

You see, my dad’s friends are going out of town for a couple days at the end of the month and the dog will stay with us while they’re gone. We had the dog over for a test sleepover. He’s a sweetheart. A big, loveable sweetheart. But he’s lacking the confidence in new surroundings that most dogs seem to have. That’s okay, though, because he gets extra pampering from my dad because of it. And from me. Dog wouldn’t eat? I let him lick the last traces of yogurt out of the yogurt container. Next thing you know, he’s eating. (I’ve never been above bribing children or animals to eat.) He won’t sleep alone? Fine. I’ll go sleep out on the couch so he’s not alone (and he didn’t like sleeping on the floor next to the bed in my room. Whatever it takes, I will make him more comfortable when he’s here.

So, there you have it. This is what I’ve been doing lately. What about you?

Just a few days late, but sincere nonetheless.

I hope your 2013 has started out wonderfully.

I ended 2012 with a lovely dinner with Mrs Mikey, Mini Mikey, and LD. We shared some great memories of Mad Mikey, ate a fantastic dinner, and even managed to remain upbeat and giggly after the car died by the side of the very dark mountain road (in the pouring down rain). Yep. Happened again. This time it was merely a thingamabob that held a belt.

New Year’s Eve itself was spent down at the Marriott in the Gaslamp Quarter. I’d won tickets via a local radio station. I took a friend of mine from high school. Free food, free drink, horrible music played by half-assed DJs, but the company was absolutely great.

I even managed to get home by 01:15.

I’m totally rock ‘n’ roll.

And what did you do?

Vodkamom has a beautiful post about being a teacher this time of year.

We did this in a friendly, thoughtful and caring way, through discussions that came up in our rooms. They weren’t directed by any policies, mandates, or outlined in any directive by the school district. They happened naturally and beautifully.

That passage in particular made me cry. We’ve over-PC’d our children right out of the most amazing experience of discovering new and exciting things about other people and other cultures because we aren’t allowed to share stories organically, but rather are forced to present lessons on other cultures and traditions and religions. Give a child a chance to be fascinated by someone else’s stories and their curiosity will be piqued. Make them sit and listen to a “lesson on culture” and you lose their interest.

My wish for teachers everywhere is to be able to go back to the days when you could have Christmas and Hanukkah decorations in the classrooms, could take the time to sit and listen to the children share, and when it was okay to hand the teacher a bottle of vodka for their first dinner cocktail of Christmas break.

Merry Christmas, teachers! Y’all rock!

Not really three wise men, but three friends celebrating birthdays today. The combination of names is just too funny: Rob, Hubert, Bjorn.

What does this say about my collection of friends?

Three types. Don’t remember which is which, though. However, in my search to identify the varieties, I couldn’t find anything that resembled these images. Either I misread the signs in each plant’s pot, or they were mislabeled. I’m going with the latter.

Eh, no matter. I think they’re lovely.

And Kimberley and I had fun cruising around Balboa Park that day.

I hope, like me, you are able to look about and find many reasons for which you are most grateful.

Family, friends, and even strangers have made the most enormous impact on my life this year and I will not forget this.

Today I forgive the idiocy and cruelness. Today I focus on the kindness and love. And today I offer my thanks all those around me for being a part of my journey.

May your day be absolutely amazing!

I’ve been looking forward to Gardenwife’s visit from the moment she started talking about it. It all started while I was still in Vegas. At one point, we were planning on driving out to California together. Then I left Vegas and she was worried about driving to California on her own.

She got over that real quick because next thing you know, she’s all up and down the coast!

And last night she finally arrived in San Diego!

Kimberley is every bit as lovely and dear as the woman I’ve come to know online for the past 10 years.

Anyone who says you can’t trust people you meet online just isn’t looking in the right places.