How do I tell this tale? Words will surely fail even while the richness leaves my jaw-aching from perma-grin. Last Monday morning at 8:45, I bought a 1960 Airstream Pacer. This was not exactly a whim, although it was my first purchase on eBay. Ever. For anyone who knows the rush of a bidding war on eBay, you know what I am talking about. And, factor in that this was a somewhat larger than usual purchase and not simply a pair of shoes or a purse.995442_10201543718575719_326820933_n I say it wasn’t a whim, as over the weekend, David and I attended our first Airstream rally. Having met a whole new group of lovely like-minded people, we joined the club and began to broaden our Airstream horizons. Many of our new club member friends have multiple trailers, which opened our minds to the possibility of more than one.
28 July, 2013 /
We are faced with decisions daily. Some that will alter the course of our lives, others that will merely take us to the next moment. It’s easy to look back and second guess. But from any vantage point there is always the next crest where we can see even more. We evaluate how something is or looks in a moment, make a decision, then judge our decision a little further along the way. But on the next peak, everything may look differently. And, viewed from space, it just might make sense. We made the decision to buy a trailer and live on the land. Soon after, the “stank” appeared which instigated the exploration inward to uncover the odor. 3+ months later, after various patching attempts and septic pump-outs, we have learned that the problem is a much larger than hoped. Not only does the tank need to be replaced but the wood underneath the bathroom floor has rotted due to the leakage of sewage over time. Lovely, huh? And, yes, it seems absolutely impossible that the dear sweet couple who sold it to us were in the dark... As you know, we moved out a few weeks ago due to the excessive heat and lack of shade which was also a bump in the road we didn't anticipate. Did we make the wrong decision to buy the trailer and attempt that path?
13 July, 2012 /
A-funk-a-fied. That is a word. Don’t test me by telling me it isn’t. Two days of serious funk and no writing. Hmmmm. Help me do the math here. The plan was to work on my book when I am not blogging and that plan has been thwarted. Drats foiled yet again. This is a scientific experiment: how will I feel this afternoon after writing compared to my mood over the past 2 days with no writing... we shall see. I will not factor in the fact that we are seeing Face tonight in Boulder. No, I will determine my post-writing mood independent of that extraneous event. Should be a simple equation. As previously stated, this moodiness t feels like a bad case of PMS. And, it could be “that time” coupled with the fact that on the 50 side of my mid-40’s I may be entering peri-menopause which I have heard carries many many joys. Especially the “Urine leakage while coughing or sneezing.” Not. I have been agro to the max; short on patience, long on reactivity, thin-skinned and excessively tired. Overcast with only small glimpses of occasional sun to remind me it still exists. Although, these days in Colorado we no longer celebrate the sun. We now do rain dances across the state and pray for Seattle slop. And, the rain gods have been kind to us recently. The metro area is cooler than it’s been and our foothills have been getting somewhat regular baths. Of course, these baths bring lightening strikes which have started a few brush fires and caused panic among my neighbors but so far so good. No new fires in our backyard.
07 July, 2012 /
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. 
08 June, 2012 /
Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not the end. 
- Sonny from the movie “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel”
“Delightful” is what one of the film reviews said, and I concur.  Many moons ago, when I first saw the preview with the above line, I added it to my very short “must see” list.  A lovely romp through India with a stellar cast of veteran actors, it didn’t disappoint.  Illuminating the “Golden Years” and the potential for a last great hurrah (or series of hurrah’s) is another reminder that it aint over til the fat lady sings.  These fine people thwarted their predictable path into frailty and leapt into the absolute unknown of a life in India.  Unlike so many movies these days, the dialogue languorously explored themes we all deal with which aren’t often reflected in the media.  The real deal.  Obviously, I am a fan of the real deal.
This film reminds me that this current iteration won’t be the last adventure of our lives.  There will be many many more.  Some chosen, others not so much.  It’s packed with life lessons and reminders of what really matters.  Stuff such as love, trust, hope, faith – and yes – that it can all end in a nano-second.  In a society where we have marginalized the elderly, it’s nice to be taught.  Yet, as my mom has always says, you feel like the same person inside, it’s the image in the mirror that keeps changing. 
03 June, 2012 /
Is that a dead mouse?  Is it the septic?  Is it a dog fart?  Is it a gas leak?  Whhhhhaaaaatttt is it?  These thought occupy my early waking mind.  Not a pleasant way to return to consciousness.  Life in a trailer – even as sweet a trailer as Flame is not without its challenges.  Upon early morning investigation, we still don’t know.  We have eliminated dog fart and gas leak.  The dogs did fart but now they are outside and the smell remains.  The holding tank shouldn’t be full – yet seems to be burping.  A dead mouse, well that’s instant karma in our war against rodents.  Did we wound one with our modern trap that took revenge by limping away and dying in some crevice?  We don’t know.
A little chilly still to sit outside and write, so I breathe through my mouth as I type and hope my essential oil diffuser will pour enough lavender into the air supply to save my soul.  You know how odor sneaks in anyway?  It’s doing that now.  It occurs as a small threat to our peace of mind.  David has removed himself by taking the garbage and recycling to the “curb” and I attempt to hold my breath.  Could be a rough day in Flame.  Have I mentioned that life is not dull?  It’s not.  Really, it never has been, but it certainly isn’t lately.  Regardless of the stank, mornings are still my best time.  Later in the day, my fatigue sets in and my mood is often erratic.  Yesterday I likened it to a chronic and very bad case of PMS.  David now says he understands what PMS feels like, and ladies, I believe he does.  Thin-skinned, thrown by the slightest curve ball, excessively sensitive, unpredictably dark – and very very tired, these are my constant companions.  After our systems being on high-rev for so long, it’s no wonder we are feeling the stress hangover.  I pray for physical resilience and for that which makes us stronger not to kill us later. 
01 June, 2012 /
The space between what’s wrong and right
Is where you’ll find me hiding, waiting for you
The space between your heart and mine
Is the space we’ll fill with time…
 - Dave Matthews
It’s the little things.  Like a new plastic folding table that can tuck away and serves as a place for my coffee cup in the morning.  My routine is to sit on my bed and write until the sun shines too brightly through my window and then I move to David’s.  Where to put the coffee mug has been a big concern.  The floor, too low.  The bed, too unstable.  Can’t hold it and type.  Problem solved for $10.99.  And, we have now disposed of the second mouse that was bold enough to run past me twice last night.  Sharing this small space with two big dogs and another human is quite enough.  Sharing with small furry rodents who poop on my stuff and make nests out of my precious snuggly things, not gonna happen. 
31 May, 2012 /
What would life be like without our people?  Not worth it.  My people include my furry people that keep us laughing with their antics.  The main benefit to having my own bed in Flame is that Tigger sleeps with me.  I have explained to him that it is an open invitation as he is such a good sleeper, curling at my feet and staying put.  I can’t make too much of a ruckus about it as Roscoe is not a good sleeper and if I boisterously invite Tigger then Roscoe will jump up too.  Roscoe likes to sprawl and twitches all night.  Tigger is still.  Often, Tigger starts on his dog bed (yes, we cracked the code) then ends up with me.  I take great comfort in his warmth on my toes.  David is a no dogs on the bed fella.  My bed is now my domain.  David and I snuggle across the narrow aisle – and yes, twin beds will not be forever once we build our tiny tiny house.
I have the first part of the day at home and am quite happy about that.  I am now officially behind on two writing projects.  I haven’t worked on my Intro again since last week.  It only needs a few tweaks and then I will send it in for review.  And, I have another project which is waking me in the night and infiltrating my sleep… I said “yes” to a workshop Kristina Hall is running where 8 other women and I will each have our own mini-version of a one-woman show in the form of 7 minutes at the microphone in a real venue.  Oh my goodness what ever had me say yes?  What I haven’t mentioned yet, is it’s a comedy show.  Eeeeeegads.  Kristina is a brilliant professional comic with over 17 years experience in front of live audiences all over the world and on TV.  She is pretty much the funniest person I have ever known.  I have seen her perform live dozens of times and never ever get tired of her material.   Recently, I interviewed her on my radio show and we talked about her life as a comic and a writer as well as her mission to allow other women to be free in our expression on stage.  Thus the workshop – and at a time in my life where I am breaking through even more barriers – thus my call to say “yes”.  The caveat for the show and the course – authentic material only.  We take the issues of our lives and bring it all to the stage.  We also are learning the structure of a joke and that’s where my blood runs cold.  If you have been reading for a while, you know I bring in my own brand of humor.  I am good at this off-the-cuff stuff in both my writing and speaking.  But crafting it, then remembering it to present it?  Oh my.  It seems the moment I put pen to paper all funny eludes me. 
28 May, 2012 /
Sewing machine, telescope, Kleenex box holders, Cuisinart… these things run through my mind as I am trying to return to REM this morning.  The dreaded inventory list, still not complete and always looming.  I stunned another naive insured person yesterday by explaining what the inventory process is really like.  Most people have no idea.  I didn’t.  Listing everything you owned down to the minutia in order to get a fraction of it back from your “insurance” is a painstaking process.  Interestingly, David awoke with a similar list.  We haven’t sat down to do inventory together lately.   The clock is ticking.  Things are popping into our heads, and some may disappear forever into the folds of grey matter that we limited humans still can’t access.  It’s time to get this sucker done.  Operation Inundation must proceed – and complete – soon.  It drains are beleaguered energy banks.  I still pant as I walk up small hills, but my psychological energy is replenishing.  Until, that is, something happens…
The recent ‘happening’ was a trip to the bank carrying a large check meant to represent “our structure”.  As you faithful readers know, this number has been grossly underestimated (and that’s a whole ‘nother story).  So into my bank I go, pleased to have received this check from the insurance company and ready to have some financial breathing room for our near future.  The bank had other ideas. Even though we continue paying our mortgage, the bank wants to keep the money and dole it out at their pre-determined milestones along the way.  To add salt to the wound, this would tie up other monies that are coupled with that large check including our “outbuilding fund” to replace sheds and our “tree fund” for the meager attempt to rehab some of our trees which really means chop them down and haul them away.  In that moment, I could not engage in the one-sided proclamation that was heading my way.  I was beyond furious.  The sympathetic banker who was the deliverer of the bad news glanced at me kindly.  I steamed out of there calling my attorney as I fled. 
26 May, 2012 /
Mornings are my favorite.  When I write, that is.  What began as my first blog entry on April 5thhas now become my most reliable practice of self-soothing.  Mind you, I don’t always feel soothed to write some of the angsty things I have shared but getting it out of the old squirrel cage and onto “paper” is definitely therapeutic.  Some of my overall darkest days have been those when I haven’t written.  Hmmmm.  Doctor, do we see a pattern here?  Typically entire days don’t occur as dark.  As I shared, Monday wasn’t so bright.  Mostly I am “good” in the morning.  I like hearing the birds, I love sitting on my bed in Flame with my Mac serving as a portable heater warming my lap in the brisk morning air.  The dogs are outside playing.  We still have this dirt thing but in the morning I am not so daunted.  It’s just what is so.  We have acres and acres of dirt and soot and the dogs will get coated with it and we will have piles of towels to wash with no laundry facility in site.  Just don’t ask me about the dirt at the end of the day…
Mostly, mid-day’s are good too.  The sun shines, or it rains or the wind blows – which I must say is still a bit disturbing and these delicate plexiglass windows in Flame don’t seem like they can stand too much in the way of excessive stress and strain so I batten down the hatches and ride it out.  But days are good.  It’s when I start getting tired at the end of the day or whenever my mind says is the end of the day.  I began getting hoarse around 5:30pm last evening and still had two groups of fabulous authors to support.  I could hear the flatness in my voice, feel the fatigue in my system and just wanted to go to bed.  My peeps inspired me by their perseverance and commitment to their own writing so I had just enough gas to be with them on the calls.  Coaching authors is like the proverbial “you can lead a horse to water…” I can’t make them write.  Yet, write, they are.  They are engaged, finding their own voices and expressions – and they are sticking with the process.  It is remarkable.  They are remarkable. 
23 May, 2012 /