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. 
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. 
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???
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. 
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. 
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. 
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. 
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.