Magic City- Magic Man

I can remember vividly standing on the bridge at Wabash and Wacker locking my heart to the city with a little silver padlock that I bought at the Walgreens down the road because I’d come to the conclusion that this City, along with my family and friends, was my true love. I’d decided to stop dating for a while at that point because the dating pool was more of a muddy puddle. I also remember looking around me at the men who passed by and and thinking that if that elusive right guy did exist he was probably in this city... or somewhere nearby. He damn sure wasn't in California. I said a quick, silent prayer for the City to help that right guy find me. Chicago had saved my life a couple years before so I figured it could do it again. That was in 2013. Flash forward 4 years and a couple of  good lessons later and I’m riding shotgun to a Vons parking lot  in Calabasas with my bff to deliver food to her husband and his crew who are working to restore power after some historic wildifires nearly ruined my state. I get out of the car to grab the food bags and her hubby introduces me to his devastatingly handsome coworker. As I shook his hand I remember thinking to myself that his wife was a lucky woman. While still shaking his hand I wondered if he actually was married... couldn't see any evidence on his strong, working man hand. A month later that same handsome man turns out to be the guy my bffs hubby wants to set me up with, so clearly not married.  He walked into the local sports bar to meet us for drinks and my heart skipped a beat or three. I remembered his eyes immediately. I looked into those eyes as he sat next to me at the table and all I could think about was kissing him or holding his hand or slow dancing  like teenagers. I just wanted to be as close to him as possible for as long as possible. It’s been almost a year and I don’t feel any different except maybe I feel it even more, on a deeper level. Chicago conspired with God and my best friends husband to send me the man I’d been waiting for.  A good man, an old school gentleman who loves his mom and treats his ex wife well. A man with Midwest roots and California sunshine in his heart. A man with the most beautiful  eyes and most glorious beard I’ve ever seen. I could gush about him all day but I won’t. I’ll just say if you’re still looking for your magic man, don’t give up. He’s out there, waiting for you to be who YOU need to be. Say your prayers, do your work and maybe make a trip to the bridge at Wabash and Wacker .. bring a padlock if you do.

diaper guilt

When I think about it I’m a weird mix of hippie and capitalist. I’ve always known this about myself but just recently started feeling the sharp angles of the two grinding against each other. For example I buy a lot of my clothes at thrift stores because I like the idea of not buying brand new, it feels a bit like recycling to me. Plus you can find some really cool stuff for less dough. I like the idea of hand me downs and I used to host clothing swap parties when I had a roomier house. There’s a book swap coming soon to my tiny living room because I got over having a small house and I’m gonna do it anyway but I’ll still drop as much extra cash as possible on fresh books when I can. I use reusable water bottles but I insist on straws in public places. I’ve worked in restaurants, I know what goes on with the glasses. I keep the heater so low your nose would freeze but will shamelessly run the swamp cooler or A/C until we get the same result. Also, I use K-cups. Like A LOT of K-cups. I’ve tried the reusable one but it gets grounds in my cup.  I have to have very high thread count sheets and down pillows but I’m pretty sure you’re a tool if you eat foie gras. Some stuff I’m flexible with and some stuff has my kids scratching their heads and asking if I grew up in the Depression. Another thing is I can’t throw food away. I will find ever more creative ways to redo the leftovers that having one less kid in the house has created. I’ll home remedy almost anything rather than buy commercial medicine. I’ll reuse things until they have no life left in them. Also - I have a diaper guilt. 3 kids worth of disposable diapers plus thousands of K- cups divided by all the plastics we use = I’m personally freaking out. Some days I wanna start a compost heap, then turn my remaining  1/2 acre of goat head infested dirt into a farm and get chickens, goats and possibly a cow. Then I take a breath, the capitalist takes over and I compromise with going to a farmers market and cooking jointly with friends or family all commune style. It’s a fine balance and some days I do better than others. Today was 50/50. In the end I’d like to be 80% hippie and 20% capitalist with great vintage style and a welcoming vibe to my home. Happy Friday!

You say it’s your birthday

Once upon a time 40 years ago a beautiful young girl gave birth to her own beautiful baby girl. That baby girl wouldn’t be raised by the young girl, but she would be raised with love and laughter nonetheless. Flash forward to 2 years ago when I got to meet that beautiful baby girl for the first time. She had a big wide smile like mine - the kind that squinches up your eyes and takes up your whole face. She had an easy laugh and a calm yet electric way about her. She had great tattoos and was taller than I expected. I looked at her and knew she was family. She’s my cousin and we all, the whole family, including that  beautiful young girl who was by then a Grandmother, had waited a long time to meet her. It was a moment both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. Sure we’d talked on the phone, facebooked and emailed before the big day but nothing beats the flesh and bone. The hug that lasts for several minutes and closes the gap on all the years from her birth to that magic day. Today is that beautiful baby girls birthday  and also the birthday of one of her brothers. How amazing is that? Amazing happens all the time in my family and for that I am grateful. For the family who gave my cousin all those years of love and laughter I am grateful. For all the people who helped my Aunt, the beautiful young girl reunite with her one and only baby girl I am grateful. For my God who watched over it all and all the forces of the universe who helped it happen, I am grateful. Happy birthday Cousin. I love you.

The Evil Stepsisters

Day two - Dementia and Alzheimer’s have been on my mind. Also, those names remind me of the evil stepsisters in Cinderella. I have been afraid of developing one or both of these diseases ever since I knew what they were. My memory is my best friend, my own personal time machine. My grandpa told me as child that I had a photographic memory and while I’ve never been tested I can tell you for certain where my family sat at Vinces spaghetti house back when it was still in Ontario. I can close my eyes and see my Mimi’s living room exactly as it was in 1991. I can remember what I wore my first day of high school and where I bought the outfit. I can walk into a friends house and tell them what has been moved on a shelf. Point is I have an uncanny knack for remembering with great and specific detail moments, people and places as far back as toddlerhood. My short term memory has always suffered thanks to my thyroid disease but my long term memory is an Olympic gold medalist.  Thanks to those evil stepsisters there could come a day where I don’t remember my own damn name, the faces of my family or how to write. Those damn sisters could toss out  all the song lyrics, my encyclopedic knowledge of all things 80’s, the States and Capitals like they tossed clothes onto the floor for Cinderella to wash. Worry gives you something to do but doesn’t get you anywhere so I won’t worry about the evil stepsisters. Instead I will exercise my brain in all the ways I know. I will take suggestions about other ways to fight. I will eat brain food and drink plenty of water. PS... the stepsisters names are actually Druzella and Anastasia. I remember because my Mimi & Grandpa took me to see Cinderella at the Foothill Center movie theater in Azusa and I had frozen junior mints for the first time that day.

New in 19 - Day One.

Day One. The cursor blinks at me as I decide what to share for the first blog of 2019. My day one began with tears driving out of LAX after dropping my son and his girlfriend at their gates. Drove home on a freeway so empty it made me wonder if I’d missed the Apocalypse. Crawls back into my deliciously comfy Christmas gift jammies and went to sleep for a few hours. First productive activity  

was to successfully unsubscribe from over 30 emails because as part of my New in 19 plan I have decided to accept less clutter into my life and the Inbox was an easy win. Less emotional clutter, less physical clutter. Less STUFF period. If it is not beautiful, useful, or necessary to my health and well being it is not allowed to stay. Be that human or otherwise. My next goal for the rest of this 24 hours that I get to live in is to finish a book started before Christmas, then I will eat some leftovers from my NYE lunch, visit with my parents in person and then I’m not sure. As a precursor to my New in 19 plan I ditched cable and I have until the middle of next week to decide what to replace it with. I am enjoying the freedom from the Box but let’s not be crazy....I can’t miss my Chicago shows. I’m happy to report that of the roughly 20 things on my 2018 Vison Board only 3 remain to be accomplished. Thank you 2018 for the lessons and the blessings. Thank you in advance 2019 for what I believe will be more of the same.  I realize as I wrap this up that I have mentally committed to one blog per day for this year. To quote Anne Lamott “I don’t think you have time to waste not writing”. I love you Day One.