Day 4 no Mac. Adjustments. Thinking I would waltz into Apple on Monday on my way to the airport and drop off my Mac and purchase the Mac air that I have coveted, instead I was thwarted when the girl with the clip board said, "no appointment, no service". After a day of record breaking heat in Colorado - and in Flame - and attempting to pack for a trip where the packing instructions were "dress up, dress to shine" all the while wondering why the hell I was leaving, this was a show stopping moment. I crumbled. I couldn't even bring myself to beg for mercy. I simply turned on a dime and slouched out of the store. David and I had a whamdinger of a fight the evening before on our way back from our lovely reprieve of camping in southern Colorado. Who knows what starts these things. Two tired and stubborn individuals both anticipating traveling the next day, add in a normal case of Sunday blues but 'on crack' in our case. He said something, I said something, we began to do the familiar dance. He was sure he was right - and I was convinced I was. Unfortunately neither of us had the perspective to pull out of our nose dive and instead steamed for the rest of the ride home. My steam turned quickly to spiral. A house doesn't make a marriage but it creates a sanctuary where marriage resides. You already know that our house was a sanctuary to us. Without it, we feel a bit unplugged to say the least. In this particular moment, I felt a cavernous hole where once was our life. Without the house as glue, would we stick? Could we stick?
Please say a prayer with me this morning for I may have drowned my Mac.  I am attempting not to panic or to think of the hefty price-tag that accompanies such a drowning.  I am attempting not to add it to my list of "one more thing" that isn't exactly turning in my favor.  I am attempting not to think of the few things that I didn't save to dropbox but were hanging out on my desktop.  Like the vaporous list of items lost in the fire, I can't quite recall what was there.  It happened in a foggy moment, I was stumbling to get some airflow in the Airstream, opening a curtain, knocked something with my elbow and it didn't register quickly enough just what had happened.  It didn't seem like a lot of water, it coated the bottom of my Mac and I wiped it dry.  But then I opened the lid and a little water was on the inside too.  Again, I really thought it was fine - and my additional early morning errors continued.  I began to attempt to boot it up.  Thinking that the battery was dead, I plugged it in and hit the power button.  Thinking it was in a loop due to a lack of charge, I gave it a few minutes then tried again.  Apparently, that's the wrong thing to do if your computer gets wet as David told me much too late.  For the first couple attempts, it sounded like a fan was running, then some sort of screen image flashed a few times, then nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing.  I should have let it dry out first, perhaps even broken out the hairdryer.  Starting it wet can short the whole system.  Apparently that's what I have done. 
Life can change in an instant.We know this.And, yet when it happens and we lose someone we love, we know it deeply.Lately, I have watched many people lose their loved ones.I hear their words, read their tales and feel their tears mixed with my own.   When we lose a loved one, we never wish we had said I love you less.We always wish we had said more, listened more, and loved bigger.This Father’s day, let’s acknowledge the dad’s we know – whether they are ours or simply those we observe.Today, go find a dad to love.They are everywhere.Grab one if you have to.Tell him what he needs to hear.Appreciate the heck out of him.And, of course, love your own if you are willing.   Some of us are lucky and have the best fathers in the world.Others may not consider themselves so lucky.How about for this Father’s day, we celebrate the perfect – as well as the imperfect fathers.Let’s celebrate those that strive to do better as well as those who believe they can never measure up.And, let’s cheer the spirit of what it means to be a father.At it’s core, and whether or not it is “done well”, fatherhood is a miraculous mission. 
Ahhhh.That first cup of coffee.There is nothing like it.Actually, the perfection is in the first sip of the first cup.Yum.I could not, would not, live life without coffee. Today we head south – to southern Colorado, that is.We pack up Flame for her maiden voyage with us – she was born in 1967 so has been on many trips with many people over the years.We only know some about the trips with her previous owners.They shared photos of Flame in front of mesas and great vistas around the desert.Their love apparent through the multitude of shots. I would love to know of all her jaunts around the country.What sights has she seen?Who have been her passengers?What were they like?What were their hopes and dreams as they took to the open road? Yet instead of packing up, I am sitting here.David knows that I need to write before anything, so he will begin packing and I will join him after.After how long, I don’t usually know.Typically, I sit for about an hour.Settling back in bed, hair in a pony tail, pillows propped up behind me, coffee cup to my side, I position my laptop opening the lid with anticipation of what’s to come, never quite knowing what I will say or who I will be.I have tales to tell and they seem to keep coming.I am going with it. 
Like herding cats.  That’s what it feels like as I attempt to sort my thoughts today.  I was given a writing assignment which I gladly said yes to!  Then as I sit down at the keyboard, the anticipation builds...  What will I say?  What will be the words that I knowwill come as they reliably have for the past 58 blog entries.  And what happens?  Nothing.  Nada.  Niente.  Nilch.  And, more of that.
Then I can’t even switch gears and write my blog cause my head has suddenly become filled with crap.  I have to say, I awoke with some crap in my head.  Thank God, I talked with another “home-loser”, the lovely Sharon, and she and I laughed at the ‘murphy’s law’ that seems to be following us around.  Just as she was calling me, she opened the microwave in her rental and the glass plate randomly broke.  My tale?  I picked up my new dress from my trusted tailor to discover that absolutely none of what we talked about had been done.  A relatively simple project, or so it seemed, he was to move the ties around so the dress fit better.  What I ended up with was not that at all – and get this – one of the ties had been removed from the waist area and literally was re-attached to the bottom of the skirt hem, hanging down.  Seriously.  Ummmmm.  I can’t even begin to understand this logic.  In telling my beloved neighbor, she laughed harder than I have ever heard her laugh before which in turn made me laugh instead of continuing down the grumpy path where I was headed all morning.  Then, Sharon proclaimed, “it’s a tail”.  She must be right.  My leopard print dress required a tail.  No other explanation needed.  Hear that, Murphy?
As another wildfire rages out of control near Fort Collins, my heart breaks for those who lost homes and particularly those who lost loved ones.  At 36,930 acres and zero percent containment, this fire is a nasty one.  An ‘act of God’ sparked this blaze in the form of a random lightning bolt.  Extreme dryness coupled with high winds is the perfect breeding ground for fire.  I didn’t sleep well, thoughts of these poor folks filling my mind, knowing some of what they are experiencing, only imagining more.  Tossing and turning throughout the night, I thought of what I want to say to them and those who love them.  I wish I could shield them from the inevitable roller coaster ride that results from life chewing us up and spitting us out.   Here is what I want to say:
And when you're in a Slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98% and 1/4 guaranteed.)
From Oh, the Places You'll Go
Ahhhhhh.  The timeless wisdom of Dr. Suess.  He continually reminds us – in the most friendly of ways – of the ups and downs of life.  We silly humans promptly forget and wonder why it isn’t roses all of the time.  What happened to the roses?  Weren’t we guaranteed roses?  Where are those stinkin’ roses!  We want our money back!!!
Life is what it is, and for sure, it ain’t always roses. 
I have found God and his name is Michael Franti.  I have found heaven and it is called Red Rocks.  I speak the truth, my people.  Let it be known.  Shout it from the mountaintops.   The lost have been found.  In the form of a 6’6” dreadlocked artist, Franti reminds us simultaneously of the darkness in the world, the depth of human emotions, and the glory of true joy.  He seems to hold all spaces equally without judgment. There is room for the love-struck teenybopper, the 89-year-old fan, the first date, the wheelchair bound, the pot smoking hippies culture par duex and more.  We are all welcome.  The bad day, good day, high on life or in the trenches, we stood shoulder to shoulder through the 3-hour show and danced our butts off, following his decree to raise our hands, jump, and make some noise.  Smiles glued to faces, knowing looks as we passed each other in the crowded aisles, joy was found at Red Rocks last night.  Franti sang simple odes of understanding the human condition:
And when the rain falls down
You know the flowers are gonna bloom
And when the hard times come
You know the teacher’s in the room
And when the sun comes up
You know that I’ll be there for you
Don’t let it go, oh no
He spoke directly to those going through struggles and pleaded with us to not give up.  I think we all agreed last night.  Red Rocks is a magical place.  My first experience there was in the mid 80’s as a college student.  It’s a blur for sure as drinking and drugging were my companions at any concert but the magical venue left it’s mark.  If you have never been to a concert there, you must at least do it once in your lifetime.  Musicians love it.  The natural rock formations create a perfect amplification of sound.  Many claim it as their favorite venue.  For most Coloradans, and those lucky enough to visit our fine state, it is definitely our favorite. 
Well… If I had written yesterday, I would have begun by crying out, “God hates me!”  Now I know that isn’t completely true.  And, I know everything could be a helluva lot worse.  And, I don’t even know for sure there is a God to hate me afterall.  Is anyone really up there watching over us?  Does he or she reside within us?  Does anything make any sense?  Are my prayers heard?  Are my curses ignored?  Will I burn in hell – or are we all living in hell right now?  All these questions and more would have tumbled from my fingers onto the keyboard…
After my debut performance as a stand-up comic on Tuesday night and the resulting freedom and exaltation that came from that, Wednesday was wonderful.  I felt different as I drove to my weekly appointment with my therapist.  The colors seemed brighter along the road – and don’t just tell me it’s cause they were brighter… My soul felt lighter and I thought I might have turned a corner.  Proud of my progress through this trauma, my therapist acknowledged my inner resources and ability to rely on my many years of personal growth tools.  I felt it too.  Ahhhh.  Life was shifting. 
Last night I leapt into the unknown. In the form of a stand-up comedy routine, 8 other brave women and I took to the stage to test our mettle.  In a nutshell, we rocked it.  The crowd was rooting for us from the beginning.  The majority of the packed house (about 100 strong) were friends and supporters with a few complete strangers sprinkled in.  It was a night to remember – and already I want to do it again.  For us brave souls who leapt, the last two weeks have had their ups and downs to say the least.  We came together for the first time on May 20th for a 4-hour workshop lead by the brilliant Kristina Hall.  A veteran comic with over 25 years experience both live and on TV, Kristina created a flagship program to help women step through fears, find our own unique expression and get our funny on.  The level of power and accomplishment in the room did not lesson our shared anxiety.  Would we be funny, would we remember, what if we froze, what if no one laughed and you could hear crickets???