Getting Dirty

I am getting down and dirty baby! I am getting it in my toenails, fingernails and probably in my hair and ears as well. I am going to roll in it, slide in it, and get all squishy in it! In a swanky spa they would charge you $200 for the "exotic treatment" but I am getting it for pennies. I will go over dusty hills, through spidery tunnels, crawl under low flying flags, be squirted with water by firemen and have the dirtiest time of my life!

I am going to throw myself into the San Diego Mud Run! 

It is a run that individuals or teams can participate in for 5K or 10K and it's all about the mud! They advise you in the beginning, wear clothes you will want to throw out after the race and expect to get very, very dirty!

Well, since I have soaked in mud for skin therapy, why not for play therapy? Let the mud flinging begin.....!

p.s. You were thinking it was all about mud, right?!

Another First Critic's Meeting

Feeling like a glutton for punishment, I went to another Writer's Critique Meeting last night with a new set of writers. Oh, boy! The brain waves practically rolled me over as soon as I stepped into the house. My brain was yelling at me, "Save Yourself! Leave Now!" As my blood rushed to my head, my writer's heart calmed me by saying, "Without pain, there is no chance of growing. " My brain shot back, "Or you can develop the Blue Nile Flu and escape in ten minutes." I was going to consider both options...

"What do you write?" asked a member.

"I write fiction. I write love stories, romance and insightful pieces. After all, romance makes the world go round!" I respond knowing I sound pretty fluffy. You can almost see his eyes roll around in his head.

(I think I feel tickle of Blue Nile Flu back in my throat...)

The first writer was a doctor in his fifties who had been writing probably since his medical school days. He had a wonderful New York accent as he read a chapter from his science fiction novel. I mumbled "great stuff", as the other writers critiqued his grammar, verb tense and punctuation. There was very little to poke at since his writing was very tight and in its tenth revision. The group asked me if I wanted to have my turn next and I quickly declined...who would want to follow the Master Luke Skywalker writer?

The second writer was a school teacher/editor and read two pieces geared for elementary children and junior high children. More tight, beautiful writing. More mumbling from me, "great stuff" and the others tackled the grammar and punctuation. I think I was able to point out one missed comma though...!

Guess what writing piece I bring to this cozy-brainiac-group? I bring my Pirate and Sassy Wench story! I have figured out what to say when saving yourself from potentially embarrassing situations in a literary critique group.

 These are the magic words: "This is my first draft." 

It's amazing how everyone will relax, give you tons of rope to hang yourself and be gentle with you in their comments and generous with you in their praise. The group were very kind to me and I actually had few grammar and punctuation mistakes with this story. I liked that they thought it had "poetic style." My ego was not shredded or did I lose an arm in the process.

I can tell my writing will be escalating  to a higher level by remaining with this group. I can also tell I will be the romantic fluff in their lives to smile, laugh and remind them that love does make a happier world go round.

My First Writer's Critique Meeting

I was humbled.

End of story.

College & Me?

It started once I registered for classes at the local community college; panic! 

What was I doing? 

Why couldn't I go back to my safe little job of dealing with brides and grooms, colors of altar flowers or questions pertaining to where they can park their Hummer limousine close to the church?

I couldn't even distract myself anymore with attending water polo games or swimming meets and volunteering to bring, bake or sit my bottom on a chair to time the races.

 The cold wet rag of reality that kept slapping me in the face was telling me I had been laid off from my job and all my children had finished high school.

Every day I thought about dropping those classes but didn't.

 Every day I thought something else would come along so I could have an excuse to drop those classes.

 Each day brought me closer and closer to face an unrealized fear. 

If someone had asked me six months ago whether I would be going back to school in the near future, I would have told them it was more likely that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie wanted me to plan their wedding at the Old Mission church in San Luis Obispo.

Unluckily for me, my son and daughter had the same schedule I did (no skipping out for a Starbucks soy late during class time) and we drove together to our first day of class in 2009. It was pretty much teeth grinding (their music on the CD player), white knuckles grabbing the armrest (if you saw how close my son drives to the other cars) and mind freezing panic (if its boring, stupid or a mind numbing class, I am so out of there) type of car ride.

My sweet son walks me to my classroom...he must have sensed the Starbucks vibe bouncing off me! Seems I am one of the last ones to arrive (since when do young people show up early??!!), I scoot into a chair by a slight young man dressed all in black. He immediately starts to sketch these Anime creepy drawings with devil tails and three pronged pitchforks...its all very dark and disturbing. The teacher starts taking roll and I only recognize my name because he said, "Lisa," first. The rest is garbled, mangled and tossed aside into nothingness of speech.  Geeez. This is going really well.

I am pretty much ready to bolt out of my chair to forever nevermore land at break when the teacher must have sensed the panic and started to use words that began to resonate within me. 

"We all need to step outside ourselves and get out of our normal routine. We need to find and discover a new way of relating to the world. If you do, you will have more possibilities in your life."

He kept repeating this theme many times in his discussion (was it my imagination but I think he looked at me every time when stating this truth-ism) and he was absolutely, frustratingly, right.

I had been freaking out over changing my normal routine and doing something I had never really planned on in the first place. I didn't really need the class to further my career, finish a credential or was it going to pay off financially. I had been talking for a million years of wanting to do art, if I had the time, if I had the right course offered, blah, blah, blah.

What if I am uncomfortable, if I am pushed to look at life differently and my stream of consciousness  turns into a torrent of creativity and color. I say yes to this new life! I say yes to allowing myself to be freaked out a lot this year and yes, I am changing my seat by Anime Demon Man!

Real Moment #2

I was so proud of myself, basking in the glow of successfully engineering my way around a digital world. Normally, I would volunteer to put bamboo sticks up my fingernails than trying to figure something out on a website in the settings, template or layout formats. Since the point was to carve out a new professional writing image for myself, I strapped my body in a chair to master the finer points of creating a signature line to end all my outgoing emails.

Armed with one tutorial session from a gorgeous friend, Amy, I tackled my other email account using the same message in the signature. It read:

Lisa, the Queen of Love

Wrap some love around your life!

I did a little jig of happiness around my kitchen table. I had conquered my computer and the crazy-confusing-cyberspace world. I happily sent out emails to friends and family with my shiny new signature and awaited the accolades of success.

POP!

That is the sound of my ego deflating and my bubble of happiness. A very kind and well published new friend ripped off an email warning me of potentially dire news.

"Dear Lisa,

Just noticed your signature and wanted to give you some feedback. Lisa, Queen of Love and wrap some love around your life makes it seem like you're inviting us to your porn site. I know this is the last thing you'd think of, but remember, you are trying to make a professional impression.

Just an observation! It might catch Google and you'll get put into a category you don't want to be."

With shaking hands it takes me three attempts to erase that dirty and disgusting signature from all my emails. Should I have our house purified with burning sage leaves? Should I have a cleansing ritual with drums, setting a chair on fire and covering my body with a mixture of backyard mud, leaves and crushed pine cones?

I am still alive, breathing and have created a new signature that still doesn't have the sizzle and punch I am looking for but it is safe.

 Yep, I dodged another bullet in my real moment.

5 Minutes with Oprah

One of my birthday wishes for my 50th year is way over the top...I mean, I am not only reaching for the stars, I am reaching for the moon, stars, galaxy and heavens! I wish to have five minutes live with Oprah! Crazy, huh?!

About eight years ago, just as I was ready to push down the button to disconnect the call waiting line, out of the grey formatted world came a real human voice.

"This is the Oprah Winfrey Show Ticket Line. How can I help you?" came a woman's pleasant voice over the wire.

"Is this a real voice?" I sputtered in shock.

"Yes, I assure you I am a real person." replied the patient woman on the phone.

"Ohmygosh! I got through! I got through! I am talking to the Oprah Winfrey Show Lady!" I screamed into the poor woman's ears. (If she ever reads this, I am so sorry about that!)

"Yes, you did. What day are you looking for tickets?" she quietly steered me to focus.

"Oh yes," I answered absently because my mind was quickly scanning the calendar for the latest date possible in order to secure purchasing cheaper airline tickets online, arrange for time off at work and lasso some girl friends to come with me.

" What days do you have still open?" I ask the nice Oprah Show lady.

"We have the 28th, 29th and 31st of next month. We only coordinate one month in advance at a time." she informed me.

"Okay, I will take the 31st and how many tickets are you allowed?" hopefully I ask.

"You are allowed four tickets. All of you will need to present ID, no last minute changes of guests are allowed and refer to the website for proper clothing attire to wear for the taping of the show. We really are looking for our guests to wear neutral colors in the audience." she informed me with a firm voice. Darn! There goes me wearing my chartreuse halter top in case they were giving away vacation trips to Tahiti! My clothing would have "reminded them of the islands" and they would naturally want to pick that funny looking lady dressed to go!

Taking a few minutes to wrap my brain around the fact that I was going to the Oprah Winfrey Show in the dead of winter in Chicago (what's a little freezing snow and 15 below wind chill factor to worry about and the fact I own no snow appropriate clothing) with fun girl friends and no responsibilities for four days! No dish washing, folding clothes, checking homework, worrying about what to wear to work, crazy car pooling and constantly playing the game of finding the mystery missing shoe! To discover the cities best restaurants, museums and shopping while sipping Cosmopolitans and wolfing down Chicago style pizza. Perfect!

The only blip on my radar was the thought of what might be discussed on the show. After discussing multiple subjects with family and friends, I came to the conclusion that the only subject I would not want to be sitting in the audience hearing about was anything to do with September 11th. The post disaster news stories were not very pleasant in terms of abusive charity scams, misappropriated money and victimizing the victims. Americans wanted to heal, self correct and move on from the tragedy. 

We are sitting in the waiting room of Harpo Studios and lining the walls are aesthetically crafted black and white pictures of Oprah with past guests...her little black book must read like the phone book for New York City and its Burroughs. We file into the darkened auditorium and discover the topic being picked apart today was..."September 11th and the Money." These are victims families (mostly the wives) who are suing for more money in the aftermath of the horrible disaster. 

My brain shut down completely when I heard the words, September 11th, and I couldn't tell you what was discussed or argued, even if I was threatened with boiling oil being poured down my throat. I could tell other women in the audience took the same stance as I... patiently listen but say nothing. I had not suffered this type of soul crunching painful loss. All I could give was my respect.

By the way, Oprah looked fabulous! The television screen does not do her charismatic energy justice or her ability to bring you in and feel like YOU are sitting in the soft butter yellow leather couch across from her!

Birthday wishes are meant to be practically impossible and that is my wish, to spend five minutes with Oprah!

Now, what we talk about when I can actually unfreeze my lips and unlock my throat is for another blog entry!

Feeling the Blues

Friday night was wedding rehearsal night and we had a blast! Ten rambunctious groomsmen, nine lovely bridesmaids, two ministers of different faiths but the same God, two fathers of the bride (have fun with that one!) and four little itsy bitsy flower girls. We ended in prayer and I sent up another one later that everyone would remember half of what I showed them!

Saturday dawned sunny and beautiful! Arrived at the church to boxes of flowers that needed to be pinned, placed or hung on women's delicate wrists. Pinning boutonniere's on ten well heeled and gorgeous groomsmen was very nice and it was fun to tease them that I might "stick" them if they didn't behave at the wedding. The four little delectable flower girls were running around in between pews, water fountains, men's legs, women's skirts, chasing Monarch butterflies still lingering at the Mission with their pink sashes fluttering behind them. The bridesmaids were hovering around the bride; adding lipstick here, straightening a piece of lace there and keeping a smile on her face.

Soon I was giving the signal for the Mission bells to ring and all the candy wrapped wedding party entered the church with the photographer clicking off photo's behind them as I closed the heavy Old Mission church doors.

It hit me then how much I missed doing weddings. I missed getting to know each of these couples, their lives, their family stories, their problems and helping them overcome any issue relating to the wedding or each other. I missed making a difference in their lives for the eight months or year before the wedding. 

I don't know what God's plan is for me and it is really hard to be patient and open when you want to push to make something happen. This was not how I thought my 50th year would be like and some days are more blue than I would like. BUT, I do believe and I do have faith that love will get me through this and love will be there in the end.

Real Moment

I was feeling pretty good while bouncing in the pool to the beat of Earth, Wind & Fire on the ghetto blaster and following the coordinating instructions of the water aerobics teacher to move both arms and legs in opposite directions. I had my San Francisco Giants baseball hat on to protect my face from the sun and slathered on sunscreen before entering the pool. My two piece tankini was kinda of cute and I had even rode my bike down to the pool. As an extra bonus, I hadn't slipped or fallen on the pool deck to embarrass myself.

The class was jumping in the water now...we were creating waves and you could watch them roll into other people swimming with their mouths open. Oops! Another wave just hit a swimmer and they got a mouthful of water. Hope they didn't mind!

As we brought the tempo down and started the "cool off" portion of the aerobics class, my eyes caught sight of something floating. At first, I thought it was a napkin or tissue that had been blown in by the wind into the pool. I waded through the water to get a closer inspection. It just kept floating on top, being tossed gently by the small waves on the surface. When I was close enough to see what it was, I gasped!

I quickly grabbed my boobs with both of my hands and sure enough, the little padding they put in swimsuits had come loose in one of my cups and was now floating in the water! I quickly grabbed it and stuffed it into my bottoms. I couldn't very well be "handling myself" while class was going on to put it back! I turned around to see if anyone had noticed and five women just looked at me. Finally one said,

"We knew it wasn't ours and so we sent it sailing over to you. Glad it found its home."

I just had a real moment and the only response to that is to start laughing. 

We all did.

January 1, 2009

My eyes popped open at 5am and with a catch of my breath, I thought,

"Ohmygosh. I have no job. I have no writing prospects and I am turning 50 this year."

A breath and sob catches again in my throat and I quickly admonish myself,

"Get a grip girlie! If you die this morning from asphyxiation, you will never know what could have been. Just go back to sleep. You don't have to freak out about this for another 3 hours or more if you are lucky..." 

and I went back to sleep...thank goodness.

The answering machine switching on with my prerecorded message awakened everyone in the house later that morning to hear the surprising news that the article had come out in the paper about me and the fact I had lost my job doing marriage preparation at the Old Mission church.

It finally ran in the paper!

It was a huge picture and very sweet article written by Bill Morem at the Tribune. Of course I had to buy 14 copies of the newspaper! 

I was still in shock!

Being the first day of my 5oth year celebration, I wanted to do something I had not done before and also take in consideration my sweet husband's wish list for the day. He stated he just needed to watch on T.V.  a little Rose Bowl football but the rest of the day he was all mine.

 On the agenda: Visit Mission San Antonio.

We took all back roads, drove into Fort Liggett where the Mission is actually located and started to absorb the history, fauna and sunshine! Glorious, golden, old, Californian native oaks; pink scrub brush; huge sprawling, green manzanita; and rough,  dark grey, slate rocks covered the valleys, hills and mountainsides. As we approached the coastline on Highway One, the soft, white, marshmallow whipped clouds sitting over the ocean made us feel we were sitting up in the heavens gazing down on earth.

We ended up listening to the Rose Bowl on the car radio, sharing fish and chips in Morro Bay and returning home with pictures burned on our minds of majestic landscapes, humble Mission beginnings and stolen kisses in valleys of purple sage.

Be Happy

Welcome to an amazing year! Yes, we are in the worst recession since the great Depression. Yes, there are massive lay offs with every breath we exhale. Yes, there is mostly bad news smeared all over the newspapers, television screens, lap top screens and people's minds. There are also many little life rituals that should be embraced and celebrated with bunches of laughter!

I am turning 50 this year.

Gulp!

I had better say it again.

I am turning 50 this year and back in 1959 it seemed like a great idea to be born. Thanks Mom and Dad! This year in 2009, I am wondering if my mother could have held it together for another eight months so I could have been born in 1960!

C'est la vie! I am celebrating every moment of my 50th year and one of my dreams is to inspire, humor and touch everyone in some small way during the course of the adventure.

Get ready, it's going to be a lovely bumpy ride!