Evolving Sweetie

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Hope you celebrate in a way that honors your soul - whether gathered with family and friends, or spending highly coveted time with yourself. Enjoy!

Today especially I give thanks for....

1.  My loving family. I'm so grateful to be a daughter, sister, aunt, niece and cousin. And I so miss being a grand and great-grand daughter. Love to you all.

2.  My sweet departed other half - Chuck. You've blessed my life in so many ways; I can't possibly give enough thanks for you.

3.  All my friends - I am truly blessed with an amazing friend family and friends from all parts of my life. I treasure you all.

4.  All the children whose lives I am lucky enough to be a part of. Thank you for bringing the laughter, patience, innocence and immediacy of the moment back into my life.

4.  My furry companions - Ross & Chandler. You are too lovely little souls brimming with unconditional love that I have been blessed to spend 14 years and counting with.

5.  A place to call my own and food on my table. And that everyone I love can say the same thing.

6.  My health and the steps I can take to improve it.

7.  For continuing to learn, grow and reach for new experiences.

8.  For the travels I've been blessed to take this year and my travel companions. It's been an abundant year in that regard.

9.  For optimism and hope to light the way through the unsteady times we find ourselves in.

10. For the gatherings and good meals we all will be sharing this holiday weekend.

Safe travels everyone. Happy thanksgiving.

Photo log - Belgium & Paris

In two short weeks I'm off to visit my best friend Janie. We'll meet up in Amsterdam and travel the Romantic Road in Germany to visit some Christmas Markets. I'm so excited to road trip with her and to experience the holiday spirit - German style. 

And I have a 24 hour layover in one of my favorite cities Paris. This will be my 3rd time to Paris and I'll finally get into the Louvre. Mona Lisa here I come!

Here's some shots from our last trip to visit Janie to get me in the European mood.

Antwerp, Belgium - Grand Place

 

Ghent, Belgium

 

Paris - Versailles

 

Paris

Paris - Notre Dame

Driving through mazes

This past weekend I attended my friend's wedding reception in Port Townsend. It was a cozy and intimate celebration...sweet and joyous.

With the Seahawk's game the next day and I opted not to stay overnight. Goodbyes were said around 8:00pm. I started my solo trek home which included a long drive on rural two lane roads, a floating bridge and ferry ride back to the main land. The night was eerie with a low lying billowing fog crawling over the landscape and spilling onto my path. Headlights ghosted out of nowhere to disappear as swiftly. Time did not exist, just me, songs on my stereo and the road ticking miles beneath us. It was a long lost friend calling out of the blue. I could have wept with joy for its familiarity and comfort. Immediately I was transported back to my early college days. Living at home, over committed with a full class load, two part-time jobs and a rigorous rehearsal schedule there was barely a moment to breathe let alone time with my own thoughts. From this space my late night cruising habit was born. It started innocently enough, just taking the long way home to give myself a little time before creeping around the sleepy household. Soon I was winding the rural roads through Monroeville, Plum and Murrysville. It was a maze I needed to get through before I could be returned safely home at night. It was freedom, a small space in the world where I could control the road I was on. I could sing at the top of my lungs and nobody cared. It was a period of painful growth, of becoming an adult yet living in the bedroom of your youth. Craving independence and dreaming of a spectacular life to come, I had not yet earned the emotional and financial means to be completely on my own. The drives were a balm to soothe my impatient spirit. (Mom & Dad if you are reading this - yes, I would put gas in the tank all the time!).

Eventually as I gained more and more independence the need for the midnight drives subsided. My night owl tendencies found other outlets. And the life I planned started to take shape. Besides urban roads do not have the same breathing place in which dreams and frustrations can be worked out.

When Chuck passed last year I absently started taking long ways home. When that did not buy me enough car time, I'd start finding loops through the neighborhoods to extend my home bound travels. This time I was not running towards the life I craved, I was running from the life that left me behind. Walking through my door delivered another blow to the chest and I created more mazes to wind through before I could tackle my threshold once more. This time the drives did not work. Urban roads demand too much attention to detail. There are no stretches where the mind can relax and just be.  The magic inherent in late night drives through the maze is feeling independence surging through your veins. More independence does not sooth the soul craving love and connection; it just leaves you exhausted and dizzy from driving in circles.

6 years today

Six years ago today was our first date. Chuck took me to a little romantic French restaurant in my neighborhood that is now a dueling piano bar. It was a sweet first date, plenty of conversation, phenomenal food and a little wine. Neither one wanted it to end. We finally left an hour after our three course meal was complete and only water was left on the table. The wait staff had long given up on us. He gallantly walked me the two blocks home. Then promptly panicked when we got to my door. He gave me the "buck-up soldier" pat on the upper arm and ran away as fast as he could. Believe me, he never lived that down (and I have witnesses to prove it). The teasing went "YOU patted me on the arm" with his reply "YOU didn't give me any signals!". Luckily we both overcame ourselves and finally figured it out on the 4th date.

Here's where our story starts. We squeezed a lifetime of experiences in those short years together. Thank you honey for asking me out on a date that night. You gave me the most precious gift I've ever received in my life - unconditional love for all that I am. And miraculously you accepted my whole heart in return. Part of me is forever by your side, just as I carry you with me always. 

Chuck - I love you with all that I am and miss you terribly! Happy Dating Anniversary!

   

"How did it go so fast? We'll say as we are looking back. And then we'll understand, we held Gold Dust in our hands." 

- Tori Amos

The Zen of Knitting

I knit therefore I am. My identity is not so woven up in being a knitter; however the act of knitting itself has become a soothing soul ritual. I find comfort in the language of knit and purl. The variations from these foundation stitches can create something so complex and mesmerizing as a fisherman's cabled sweater or as simple as the tiny plain dish cloth. And there lies the beauty. Simple patterned projects transport the knitter to a meditative, relaxed state with its predictable rhythm. Medium leveled projects provide enough variety and challenge to engage one's attention for hours. And the complex projects demand our undivided devotion and growth in understanding and skill. And we knitters learn to have many projects going on simultaneously and how to match our mood with the correct dose of knitting. I can control the amount of my own involvement based on the project I choose to work on at any given time.

I learned to knit in the fall of 2006. It took a few weeks for the motion and tension gauging to get into my body. As soon as my body "got it" I was hooked. I love the portability and multi-tasking ability to knitting that is missing from my other creative outlets. I can easily travel, visit and relax to tv or music while knitting. And it is a social activity. Strangers are always interested in what you are making, the story behind it and delight in watching it take shape off your needles. Walk into a yarn shop anywhere and you have a common language and passion to create a bond. Drop in on a knitting circle and there is already a basis for connection.

I've belonged to a few knitting groups here and there in the last 2 years. It was at a new one last night that I marveled once again at the community building blocks that form. It starts with admiration of others work, and help freely given and accepted. Then slowly personal stories come to the surface. Tales of children and spouses, travels, books read, holiday meal disasters and before you know it you have found the humanity and a connection with everyone in the room.

The gifts I have received from knitting have been immeasurable. Something to do with my hands to keep me grounded during the long hours logged in doctors offices and hospital rooms. It gave me a task and cultivated patience. Flights have become pleasurable with a knitting project to keep me engaged and an Ipod. I feel less guilty about vegging in front of the Thursday night line-up or a movie. It's speed up time and slows it down when needed. I see joy in the faces of the friends and family for whom I've knitted. I've learned to value my time and resources. There are pieces that become my own heirlooms for I am the only one who understands what truly went into the project. The sense of pride and accomplishment in wearing my own creations is priceless.

And I am learning to accept what mistakes I can live with and what ones need to be ripped out and redone. I only got to knit Chuck a scarf. It was a black cashmere blend knit in garter stitch (knit every row). The yarn cost way more than a scarf should, but I did not care. I wanted it to be soft and caress Chuck's neck each time he wore it so he'd know he was loved. The problem was that I was also making scarves for Christmas gifts and his scarf was knitting up so slowly. A whole evening spent knitting would only yield a few more inches. His scarf was getting pulled out of rotation with his blessing to work on the gift scarves. Which brought us to the end of Nov and his scarf was only 3/4 done when cancer came calling again. In my distraught state and haste to finish it before treatment began, I restarted the scarf in the wrong direction and it has a huge gap in the stitch pattern. When I realized this Chuck would not let me take it out and made it perfect. To him it reinforced the love that was knitted into it and proved to all observers that he was so loved by his sweetie.  To me now when I see the obvious disruption to the harmony of the pattern it reminds me of the days our harmony was shattered and that we continued on from there.

My soul takes pleasure in the textures, smells and colors knitting brings into my life. I create with the senses of sight, smell and touch for my enchantment as much as others. I knit love and positive thoughts into each garment for the receiver to wrap themselves in. The pieces I give provide warmth and protection and beauty. So yes, I knit therefore I am for it's through knitting I am able to share my best intentions, love and creativity. 

Welcome to 40!

I turned 40 with grace and joyous celebration this past weekend. My heartfelt thanks to everyone who joined in the festivities through cards, wishes, party attendance, outings, beautiful gifts and most importantly loving companionship.

I approached my birthday with trepidation. My 30s contained my whole life with Chuck and it was time to leave them behind. This decade housed the absolute best and worst moments of my life. I was passing a major milestone Chuck will never reach and it reverberated to my core. The distance between our life together and this new life seemed to expand exponentially. Leaving me in a quiet panic, purposely picking at emotional scabs to feel them gush fresh blood. Logic has no place here, it's a heart matter.  

Fortunately life is a power force and the excitement inherent in starting a new chapter took root and grew. What treasures will this new decade uncover? What hard won lessons will I come away with? What moments will take my breath away? Who will be coming into my life that I can’t imagine life without?

It doesn’t surprise me that my dueling threads of thought played out in the execution of my birthday party. When I observe it, the psychology is pretty amusing. I wanted 40 to be celebrated as the milestone it is and the “big deal” Chuck would have made out of it. So months ago I lined up my friends house to host the party.  Did I tell anyone outside of my inner circle until 10 days prior to the party? NO! Didn’t really give a lot of people fair warning. Classic mixed signals. 

In spite of my attempts at self sabotage, there was a good turnout and it was a lovely party.  And wishes the gang have collectively been hoping for have started to become reality…a partner for a dear friend and children for a wonderful couple of friends. The night provided lots of reasons to celebrate and belief that other wishes will come true.

My birthday weekend started with a bouquet of gorgeous flowers delivered to my doorstep (thanks Mom & Dad)! I kicked off the birthday weekend festivities with breakfast at Chinooks with Heather, Mike and the nieces.  Anytime I get to spend being Aunt Nette and with my family is golden time.  I had a blast. Next up was a body wrap treatment at Habitude. Happy Birthday to me! I’m not ashamed to admit it, I am so a spa girl. The treatment was exquisite, but I must say the Rain Forest Shower with 7 showerheads was absolute heaven. Can I fit one of these in my condo? Definitely added to the when I win the lotto list! I’d need to win the lotto for the water bill alone.

The rest of the afternoon was shopping and prepping for the party. As usual, I had too much food and enough wine for twice as many guests as in attendance. In my meager defense, I learned party planning from my husband who:

A. was a professional chef in his early career, catering huge events.

B. believed it was a sin to run out of food or drink at a party.

C. never did anything on a small scale. remember the 100lb pig roasted in my back yard?

D. did I mention his issue with scale...

I thought the party was pretty successful with a mixture of family, friends and coworker/friends. Thank you B & Eric for generously donating your lovely home for party central. And thank you all who came. I so enjoyed visiting with you all.

Sunday, my actual birthday was slow starting. Blame it on the wine! I wasn't horribly hung over, just a bit unsteady on my feet. I have to say my favorite birthday moment came first thing with Heather and Emmie calling to sing me happy birthday. Nothing is more precious than the sound of a 2 year old singing you happy birthday! Ginny and I tailgated for a little while and went to the Seahawk game. We tried to make it a game in the 4th quarter but did not pull it out in the end. At least it wasn't as demoralizing as the Husky games. It's been a rough year for the PNW sportsfan.

I rounded out my day with a lovely dinner with a friend at Purple. We had a delightful mix of appetizers, gourmet salads and a little wine. Dessert was a very interesting goat cheese ice cream and orange creme brulee.

All in all it was a wonderful start to a new decade - thank you all.

All in the delivery

Cruising around one Saturday afternoon, I was listening to Weekend America and applauding the topic of conversation. The discussion revolved around how real life trauma ruins your ability to engage in entertainment. The topic was relevant to the host as Mike Myer's "Love Guru" had just released. The host previously loved Myer's craft, but since then his daughter was born with dwarfism.  The movies which always feature a height challenged sidekick were now intolerable to witness.

It reminded me of a conversation I had with a counselor when Chuck was in treatment about Grey's Anatomy.  Chuck & I were watching an early episode where Yang and Alex have to give lots of people their test results. The gag was they had only good news to deliver and the overjoyed patients kept hugging them. After about 45 minutes of this, Chuck turns to me tears streaming down his face "Why couldn't someone have said that to me?" They were making light of a moment we so desperately wished for. The counselor's theory why medical dramas are so popular in our culture is they give us practice at handling disease, traumatic experiences and death. Our society does little otherwise to help us prepare for these eventualities. The truth was it wasn't hypothetical any more. We did not need practice, Chuck & I were living it. Empathetic detachment - no longer possible.

Which it brings me to the tale of 2 shows I watched last evening. Both themed around coming to terms with loss. My lesson  was it's all in the delivery.

First up we have Grey's Anatomy. I've already survived their exploration into tongue cancer. So, I figured I had won my immunity.  But they had to tread onto the one sacred wish that everyone in my shoes harbors. One last time to see, to talk to and to touch their deceased love one. I was trembling with fury that the finality of the loss I fight so hard to make peace with would be blatantly exploited in a doctor and dearly departed love reunion. My ability to remove myself was horribly compromised and it sparked another internal fight against wishing for impossible things. It's one battle that I will win again, but I'm furious to be suiting back up.

Fortunately, I tuned into ER for the first time in years as well last night. Anthony Edwards was coming back for this episode and I loved the show when he was on. I met Anthony the summer after high school when I was a bright eyed, passionate, soon-to-be theater student. He was extremely kind, funny and genuine the few times we talked. Huge soft spot for him ever since.

Last night's ER episode had to be one of best hours of television in recent memory. While both shows were handling recovery from loss, ER maneuvered it with such grace, dignity and humanity. Angela Bassett's performance as a doctor fighting memories of her son's death in the midst of saving another child was riveting and heart breaking. It was an honest, gut-wrenching portrait of living with grief and the long term struggle to rebuild. Truly stunning.

Anthony Edward's "Dr Greene" was shown in flash backs as the doctor fighting to save her son's life. It was during the timeline of the character's battle with cancer. From this viewing distance, I could fully see the genius in his performance as someone in active treatment. I purposely try to remember Chuck in healthier times. Yet, there was the same vulnerability, grace, wisdom and compassion that were hallmarks of Chuck's last few months. And the naked fragility that is the miracle of life. It was a gift to be reminded. To me those memories bare witness that cancer could not keep Chuck's true essence from shining through.

Perhaps it is not fair to compare the 2 shows. Grey's is a cornucopia of comedy, drama and romance and ER a dyed in the wool drama. But if the sources I turn to for escape from my world want to keep pulling me back to it, give me the realistic and gutsy portrayal any day.

Autumn @ Greenlake

                           

For all of you who are not Seattlelites, we are blessed with a beautiful lake in our Greenlake neighborhood that is a beacon to us all. The trek around the lake is just shy of 3 miles.

All year round as you log footsteps, your path will cross Mommy teams jogging behind their strollers, rollerbladers, dogs and owners (who's leading who?), friends engaged in animated chats, runners pressing on, kids weaving on bikes, elderly couples strolling holding hands...Greenlake is the jewel of our city.

This fall I've had a 9:30am weekly appointment with a Ryan and Rachel to walk the lake. What we've lost in daily contact since work left off, we gained in atmosphere. Our walks have a comfortable cadence to them. Check in and discuss the week's passions - industry, politics, cooking, sports, camping and so on. I scout out for the blue herons and try to coax a smile out of Georgia when she is along for the ride. Rachel and I keep our eyes peeled for good light and picturesque views. We all keep a look out for the turtles. And about the same distance into each walk Ryan breathes deep and says "How lucky are we to have this here?" The only complaint is that we are back at the beginning too fast.

Personally, I've walked 100s of miles around this lake in all kinds of seasons, weather and conditions. Every time has enriched me. The blessing I receive from Greenlake when I commit to circle her shores is that I am present. My heart beats faster, my breath deeper, my body rejoices. I'm free from the rest of the world to fully enjoy my walking companions company. I reconnect with nature through her thriving wild life and ever changing landscape. And I am reminded in each passerby that I am part of the greater.

Think of all the thousands of worries, joys, philosophies and struggles our Greenlake hears daily. This lake is our community wishing well. And she won't spill a word.

Home is where the heart is.

In the stillness of the late night, I can't shake the feeling that I am not home. These walls shelter me from the outside world and keep me safe. Like a cocoon housing the caterpillar until it is ready to take flight as a transformed butterfly, my place feels nurturing, soothing and temporary. When I first stepped across the threshold it had a positive, healing feel to it. I envisioned it as a peaceful retreat for Chuck to live his last days. Instead it became a foundation for me to rebuild upon.

Home truly is where the heart is. And it never mattered where we were... in our house, hotel, tent, airplane, snuggled on a picnic blanket ...whenever I laid my head upon Chuck's broad chest and heard his heartbeat I was home.

Don't get me wrong. I'm so grateful for my lovely place that in the light of day feels like home. The colors were picked out with care to create a peaceful oasis. The walls carry precious mementos - family photos, artwork we lovingly gifted each other, pictures we shot and souvenirs from all our travels. Everywhere I look I see a healthy blend of us and me. My home wraps its arms around me and I can breathe deeply.

Life is what my place aches for. At times it feels too large of a space for the kitties and I alone to fill. I'm at my happiest here when I am entertaining. Cooking up a storm, with music playing and the fireplace roaring as the sound of laughter fills the air. I proudly share my beautiful home with those I love. It's the frequency that needs to be tampered with.

But at this moment, it's the witching time of night. And I have not yet found a home to rest my head upon. Take heart dear girl, the light of day is only hours away.

"I have not been home since you left long ago. Thumbing my way back to heaven." Thank you Pearl Jam, couldn't have said it better myself. 

Little Pink Houses

Maybe it is growing up in the age of TV or having a theatrical background, but I have a tendency to soundtrack my life. I used to joke that I would know I found "the One" when the orchestra swelled. The first time this sound tracking phenomenon happened was at my Grandfather's funeral when I was 13.  I remember looking at my uncle, his only son, as he walked over to help carry his father to his final resting place.  He was so stoic and stunningly fragile that my broken heart cracked open further. As I witnessed him lift the casket "Carry that Weight" by the Beatles spontaneously echoed through my mind. Decades later, I can't hear that song without seeing my uncle on that day.

The songs vying for contention come to me in various ways. Mostly there is a lyric that my subconscious thinks would be perfect for the moment and it tosses the song into my stream of thought. Think of all the songs you have heard in your lifetime. That's quite a library to draw from. Sometimes, it happens by kismet. I was listening to my ipod one particular evening last year when I was in the midst of a grief landslide over the loss of Chuck. As I was struggling to get my bearings, Sarah McLachlan's song "Do What You Have to Do" randomly came on. It was a song that I was not familiar with as I don't listen to her very often. The lyrics "I know I can't be with you. I do what I have to do. And I have the sense to recognise that I don't know how to let you go." It was perfect and a godsend to know someone else gets it. I still draw on this song moments when I am struggling.

But, what does Little Pink Houses have to do with this you ask?  Well, this song won't leave me alone for the last 2 weeks. And it is not of my making. You have to understand anymore if the radio is on I'm listening to NPR. Music I haven't chosen to listen to tends to come from being in public places or is sound tracking the movies and shows I watch. My "Little Pink Houses" trilogy starts with my friend's visit a few weekends ago. There is a little pink house in the neighborhood that is out and proud of it's pink self. I don't even really notice it anymore, but my friend starts singing "Little Pink Houses" as we pass it. It was situational, amusing and a bit corny, but it made me giggle. And I couldn't help but sing that song the rest of the day.

So this week, my Little Pink Houses episodes continue. Monday, I was out getting Teriyaki and decided to eat in as I needed a break from my 4 walls. Waiting for my food, the song comes on. The lyrics that stood out in BOLD to my mind this time was "Cause they told me when I was younger - boy you're going to be President. But, just like everything else those old crazy dreams just kinda came and went. Oh, but ain't that America for you and me?" This verse kept circling through my thoughts as we went through Election Day. Was Obama going to be a dream that came and went?  How about all those little pink houses that have people and economies stretched to the max? What crazy old dreams did I have that I let go? What is the American dream now? What is my dream?

Then we fast forward to Tuesday evening and I'm standing in the ballroom of the Westin at the Democratic Party election celebrating with friends in a sea of people bursting with hope, relief and joy. Watching as history was being made; we all collectively were moved to tears by our 44th President, President-Elect Obama. HOPE was still alive in our country from sea to shining sea. The seemingly impossible ultimate American Dream was playing out before our eyes. You could feel the spiritual psyche of the country shift towards healing. The work has just begun and it's a rough road ahead. But, Yes, oh yes We CAN.

Then monitors went black. Friends and strangers hugged in joy and optimism as Little Pink Houses flooded the ballroom. And just like that, forever "Little Pink Houses" became an essential part of my memory. "Ain't that America for you and me? Ain't that America, we're something to see, baby. Ain't that America home of the free. Little Pink Houses for you and me."