Mangoes

I know it's been a while, but I haven't forgotten you, dear blog.  Here, I wrote this for you today while I was downtown.  Just for you.  Random thoughts.  Mostly about mangoes.

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Please tell me what is better than a mango.  That juicy, sweet, earthy flavor is like nothing else, and I find myself letting slip little squeals whenever I come across anything mango these days.

German mango nektar (juice)
      
        dehydrated mango slices

                 mango margaritas

What's nice about it is that around here there is an abundance of all natural options.  No sugar added, no unpronounceable chemicals to lengthen the shelf-life, just pure and innocent (albeit sliced and smashed) mango.

Circumstances brought me downtown today and it's magnificently gorgeous out.  Although there may or may not be moisture from the ground slowly seeping through my pants, enjoying a lovely little lunch in the grass on my own is really kind of wonderful.  I discovered a tiny (and somewhat new) take away lunch shop as I wandered toward Koenig Strasse, though I don't remember the name.  Yummy and healthy wraps and salads, and the one I took to the park had chicken breast, eggplant cream, carrots, peppers, arugula and pecorino.  It was pretty spectacular.  That and my all natural mango juice made for the perfect picnic for one on this pretty, pretty day.  The flowers have sprung from their winter slumber to assure us that Spring is really here, and there's not a cloud in the sky.  People are strewn about the stretches of grass that frame Schloss Platz, separating the walking paths and fountains.  They are reading, eating, talking, writing, kissing, laughing, and watching.  I've been craving the sounds of the ocean with all this beautiful sunshine, but the gentle murmur of voices and distant rumble of cars somewhere nearby aren't a bad consolation on a day like this.

Why do we focus so much on the weather?  We make fun of the trivial nature of asking about the weather, but we always ask anyway, don't we?  Weather, after all, has a strange power of our moods, and even our level of productivity at times.  And in a land where it really feels like the sky is smeared with thick, grey sludge 9 months out of the year, sunshine is a cause for celebration.

A sheltie just passed by on Koenig Strasse and it makes me think of Ginger and Sasha, the good dogs they were.  I had another dream last night about saving Heidi.  At first I was searching for a lost Heidi, but then I thankfully found her, calling her to me gently so she wouldn't bolt again.  I had her, but then she ran again, and ended up falling into a pond, immediately sinking to the murky bottom.  I dove in after her and pulled her out, and everyone was okay.  Why do I have so many dreams like this?  Always searching for her after she's taken off, or saving her from the likes of monstrous cars and mad dogs?  I'm always protecting her, and it's so stressful.  Maybe it's realizing a 16 year-old pup doesn't realistically have a whole lot of time left, and my subconscious refuses to allow her departure from her life and mine.  I dread the day that turns out to be her final one, but hope for the strength to be there to lovingly usher her out of this life.

Really?  This is what I'm thinking about right now?

As in all things, I suppose, there comes a time to go, and right now, it's time for an iced coffee and a walk for me.

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So now I find myself sitting upstairs at one of the Starbucks nearby, sipping my caramel frappuccino and breathing a little bit of life back into my blog.  My poor, neglected blog.  And I know this post is rather random and rambling, but so am I.  Before staking claim to a comfy chair and table as I picked up my delicious and indulgent treat, I asked about another drink waiting for its ride down into someone else's tummy.  The color caught my eye.  Upon answering me and witnessing my reaction, the lovely Starbucks girl asked if I'd like a sample, as there was some left over in the blender.  With a gleeful grin I accepted and walked away sipping on a little bit of frozen mango smoothie.

Mangoes.  Happy.  Me. 

Tears to Come

Something I'm not sure I'll ever get used to is the cycle of hellos and goodbyes that come with living amongst a military community.

This last week was one of news for many of our friends here.  It's difficult to find a balance between feeling selfishly sad for having to hug a good friend goodbye, and being excited for the new journey ahead of them.  How do you say congratulations when your heart is saying, "Don't go" at the same time and mean them both?  It's strange, but it happens and it's happening now.

While a couple friends are still awaiting official news of where they'll be going from here, everyone seems to have a pretty good idea and all those places have SUN, so we're all happy for them.  Chris and I have been so incredibly fortunate to have found the friends we've had here, so when summer rolls around this year, there will be a lot of smiling through tear-filled eyes.

Congrats to Angela and Chad, who won't be separated after all, moving to the sunny state of Arizona.  Having been expecting to be apart for a year and basing life plans around that, finding out they'll be moving together must have brought a great sigh of relief to their home.

Congrats to Amy and Rick, who although will sadly be apart for some time, will at least have the comfort of knowing Amy and their kids will be with family and friends who can't wait to have them home again.  I'm sure it will be a comfort to Rick to know his family is being well cared for while he's working hard far away.  Amy and Rick are strong, wonderful people who can and will handle the up-coming separation with grace, no doubt.  It doesn't hurt that they've got two amazing kids to remind them of how great they've got it in the long haul.

Congrats to Diane and Wayne, who will be moving back to the South, where Diane feels at home.  Living only a few hours from her parents, it will surely be a joyous time for everyone, including their (now) 3 beautiful children.  And knowing that my dear friend will be a drivable distance from Chris and my family in Florida at least leaves room to imagine possible visits with them in the next couple of years.  Still, this will be my most difficult goodbye, as Diane has been one of those friends you don't find often, one from whom I've learned so much and one I know I'll always cherish.  But I was good today; I waited until we hung up to cry.

It's also likely that California will be inheriting another favorite family of ours, but we'll wait till that one's official to go into any detail.  What is for sure is that all of our departing friends will be leaving uniquely shaped holes in our hearts, and will be missed dearly.

So why do I feel the need to whine about this publicly?  I guess this post is a kind of emotional purging, with the hopes that as I am reminded to take full advantage of the time I am gifted with people I've come to call family, you will, too.  We have to say goodbye throughout life, whether due to moves, life circumstances, or death.  Remembering that all things change, that all things come to an end in some fashion is important, I think, because it keeps us from taking things for granted, these relationships and these people we love.  So I'll be looking for more opportunities to spend time with some before they leave, making more memories to hold onto when face-to-face get-togethers are replaced with Skype and the phone, as well as with the friends who are thankfully hanging around a bit longer.  The hugs will get a little tighter, and as the time nears, possibly a little longer.

Maybe one of these days I'll be able to say so long to a good friend without shedding a tear when it's time to go, but I kind of hope I don't.  I actually went back to an old post to find something that dawned on me then, and applies again now..."And never worry about the difficulties of goodbye, because between friends that doesn't really exist anyway." (from the post, There You Are, by me).


That's comforting, and realistic given the way the people around us travel all over and wind up with neighbors they shared a street with a decade before.  So that's what I'll be thinking about when the hugs begin this summer.

If I may quote from a good friend's blog regarding this same current happening, "Nothing replaces friends - our hearts only get bigger as we try to fill the void they will leave" (The Adventures of Nicholas Roy Leadbetter and Family, Sara Leadbetter).

I couldn't have said it better, Sara.

Sunshine, Writing, & Newborns

I've recently become aware of the power of these three things in calming me down and lifting me up.  It's interesting that this is a new realization, as introspection has always been a way of life, but there it is.

Sunshine
I've heard of Seasonal Affective Disorder, aka, Winter Depression, where even people with no history of depression can find themselves being tugged in that direction for lack of sun for extended periods.  And it makes sense, both psychologically and biologically, but I never realized how solar powered I really am.  I suppose being a Floridian transplanted to Tuscany, I've always lived in sunshine.  A cloudy day was never a big deal because the cloud cover soon blew over and the sun always reappeared.  Life in Germany is just as amazing, but far less sunny.  Winter tends to not just come for a visit, but unpack and act like it owns the place.  And whereas a white Christmas is gorgeous and fun, a winter that drags on for months (as in beyond Easter, like last year) gets as tiresome as any overstayed guest.  The skies seem stained grey, ever leaking rain, snow, or some variation in-between.  A day that allows for some unscheduled sunshine is a welcome, albeit, rare occurrence.

I wasn't aware of just how low I'd sunk with regards to my mood and overall feeling of well-being until this past weekend when the sun took over the sky for three straight days.  Not a cloud in the sky.  Nothing but bright, white sunshine and crisp, cold winter air.  It was like suddenly remembering how to take a deep breath again.  I found myself stopping to close my eyes and face the sun, whether I was cleaning up in the kitchen, walking Heidi outside, or just passing by a window.  It reminded me of how beautiful it is here, and of how much I love our home with all its many windows, perfect for showcasing brilliant sunlight.  When we were house-hunting, we did call this house Sunshine, after all.

Writing
By now, you may be aware of my love/hate relationship with writing.  As in a passionate love affair, I'm either brimming with excitement, eagerness, and lust or steaming with impatience, frustration, and anger.  But I'm happy to report that we've been in a really great place this last year, ever since I created this blog and made a commitment to spending more time writing, gradually nursing what had become a malnourished relationship back to life.  Daily writing led to a flame rekindled, a passion revived, and a heart relieved that it wasn't really over between us.

I began a new short story in November and all creative energy went straight to that until the completion of the first draft the first week of January.  What began with what I thought to be a clever ending for a three or four pager developed organically into a forty-six page piece.  I'm currently residing in the space between finishing the first draft and awaiting the first round of critiques and comments, most of which I won't receive until the beginning of February.  Not wanting to lose my focus in a new piece of fiction, I'm hesitant to start anything new or even dust off an old, unfinished piece, and so am experiencing a build-up of creative energy and drive.  And as a return to consistent blogging is one of my three very realistic writing goals for 2011, a minimum of one post per week, my hand is singing as I write this post at work while the kids are having Spanish.  I realize it's now the third week of the new year, and this is my first post of 2011, but it takes me a little to move into new habits.

The point is, finding a few minutes to sit down and write this out to share with whoever decides to read it is uplifting, eliciting no minor rush of endorphins through my brain and right back out my fingers. I'm so grateful for this outlet for what it's taught me, and will continue to nourish it, as well as my relationship with writing for as long as I've got words to share.

Newborns
I like kids, always have.  And yes, babies are cute, though I prefer them once their personalities have had time to develop a little.  But I never fully understood why so many people seem to lose their minds over holding babies, especially newborns.  I thought about this because Diane, a very dear friend of mine has just given birth to her third child, their first boy, Blake Patterson.  If I love you, I'll love your children, so I was excited to visit in the hospital the day after his birth and again once they were all home.  I held him for a minute or two in the hospital, as I've held other new babies of friends and family, soon handing them back over for feeding, changing, or consoling, but the second visit was something different, altogether.  This little baby slept cuddled into me for an hour as I talked with his mother and grandmother, making immensely tiny noises and jerking slightly in his sleep.  As I held him, an amazing calm settled over me that I'm quite sure I've never experienced before.  Listening to him, smelling him, and feeling him there, so warm and so beautifully innocent was like a drug, and I say this with absolutely no exaggeration.  My body relaxed and my heart swelled.  By the time I handed him over for a change and dinner from Mommy, I had nearly convinced myself he was mine and I'd do anything to protect him.  And this is how I learned that a sleeping newborn is like a happy muscle relaxer.  My poor husband is surely aware of my intensified need to have one of our own.

But all in good time.




Driving home from work today in a minor snowstorm wasn't enough to dampen my high spirits, especially having spent some time reflecting on sunshine and writing and newborns.  It's always effective to be able to identify the origins of problems to better handle them in the future.  Writing is all mine, a baby is a want but not yet in the works, and sunshine is never a certainty here, but at least I've got a better handle on understanding the beauty and power of simple things.

And maybe I'll be buying a sunlamp sometime soon.

Just an ordinary day

I am having the best day ever.

Up at 6am so I could drive Chris to work and then drop the car at the dealer for some minor maintenance, I was on the train this morning by 8am on my way downtown Stuttgart with the challenge of filling the day. With nasty weather outside, Starbucks was an easy choice to start the day.  (At this time of year I'd rather dodge snow dumping from the sky than this nasty, rainy, slush-making business.)

I spent the first three and a half hours in the upstairs lounge at my favorite Starbucks.  I'd been worried I'd grow bored sitting with my laptop in a coffee shop, but I was being ridiculous, apparently.  I was a machine, putting together a calendar for the upcoming year for the Writers' Group, working on a story I've been miraculously focused on lately, and up catching up with a few friends via e-mail.  Something I've noticed is that I'm constantly saying to friends that I'd like to "catch up," when what I should be doing is staying up in the first place.  I hear a resolution coming...  A delicious peppermint mocha and a nice stretch of time later, I left my cozy spot  to seek out something for lunch.

Sushi for lunch is awesome, and sushi for one is a nice way to spend an hour.  After that I walked (almost) straight to the store that shall remain unnamed (in case Chris actually reads a blog of mine) to find and purchase the one little thing I'd been looking for all over to complete Chris' Christmas, but what apparently is only carried downtown.

After that success I did a little window shopping until I passed an old man sitting against a cement building, his hat set in front of him with a few coins inside and a tired look on his face.  With nothing in particular to do, I shopped the nearby Christmas Market stands for a good deal on some food, settling on some bratwursts in a sliced baguette and a mug of gluhwein.  While attempting not to spill as I shuffled through a sea of shoulders and shopping bags, I was surprised to hear my name.  It was Sarah and her husband, Matthew, downtown for some shopping and getting food, themselves.  Sarah, I recently met through a mutual friend, and her husband, I met right then.  We chatted a minute and then I explained I needed to make a quick run, but I'd be back.  When I handed the old man the brats and gluwein, his eyes red with what I hope was fatigue and not drunkeness, he said thank you and that was all I needed.  I spent the next little bit talking with Sarah and Matthew until it was again time to wander.

I ended up wandering right back to the same Starbucks at which I'd begun my day, this time with a less fancy coffee, but a big, fancy, chocolate cookie to put a cherry on the afternoon.  And I just felt like writing about today, because so many days pass right by without much appreciation for all the good they bring: I didn't want to let this one go by without some gratitude.

I started this year reading a book called The Happiness Project, by Gretchin Rubin, where a writer devotes an entire year to becoming a happier person.  Each chapter is devoted to one month and one set of goals to achieve the main goal for that month.  As I often do, I started it with gusto but got lazy about half-way through.  But last night something made me pick it up and I read through a chapter devoted to gratitude.  Gretchin writes about how easily we overlook all the good in our lives, and how unfortunate it is to wait until some catastrophe wakes us up to really appreciate it.  In an attempt to learn from other people's catastrophes, she tried turning each aggravation into gratitude, and I really like that.  So today, I was grateful to be up early because that meant I got to come downtown and explore on my own for the day.  And I'm grateful that I had to come downtown (not having a way to get anywhere else) because I've gotten some serious writing done today, saw some friends, found that last gift for my husband, and got to feed somebody who was hungry.  (If you're one who scoffs at people who fall for the sympathy act along major shopping streets, think of it like this:  most of us will spend $10 on 2 coffees from Starbucks, like I've done today, without a second thought, so why can't we spend the same to put some hot food and maybe a little hot, mulled wine in someone's stomach?  There's a reason I don't give money when I pass someone with their hand out, but something's happened to someone whose dignity allows them to openly beg, and I don't mind sharing some kindness with a stranger.)

Did I mention the sun came out, too?

So today I'm grateful that I have people to shop for for Christmas, that I have the means to spend the day wandering and writing in a city buzzing with the season and drinking overpriced coffee, and that I'm still lucky enough to have a full-functioning body and a home to return to tonight.  Although there are countless things I'm thankful for today, at this moment that which I am most grateful is that today is just an ordinary day in my life.  And I think that's pretty spectacular.

Have a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a Festive Kwanzaa, and a Great Festivus, and a new year overflowing with joy and success.  I hope that if you're reading this, you know how much I appreciate the fact that you take the time to stop by.  I also hope that if you haven't done so in a while, you'll stop and think about the ordinary things that make your life good.

Love and happiness to all.

Why Did Constantinople Get The Works?

Istanbul
Day 1

Chris and I in front of the Blue Mosque

Turkey Day in Turkey, a concept that honestly did not occur to me until the day before flying out, but one that came to everyone else's mind immediately when I told them where we were headed for the long weekend.  Yes, this Thanksgiving we decided to go to Istanbul, which I learned years ago via They Might Be Giants, was Constantinople (Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople), along with the fact that even old New York was once New Amsterdam.  Why'd they change it?  I can't say.  (People just liked it better that way.)  You gotta love history lessons through music.

So we were off to the farthest place east I've ever been, ready to brave the chaos of the bazaars and for me to step into Asia for the first time.  We were eager to search out certain street food and learn what it's like to walk around a city where many citizens drop prayer rugs in the streets for when the call to prayer rises up from nearby mosques.  And although not every aspect of this trip was spectacularly positive, it was an amazing experience we won't soon forget.

Thanks to the recommendation of a friend (thanks, Melody!), we stayed in great little pension right in Old Istanbul with views of the famous Blue Mosque and Aya Sofya from the roof terrace, called Side Hotel and Pension.  Clean, inexpensive, and perfectly located, our trip was off to a great start at 11pm Wednesday night upon check-in.  We planned out the next few days and settled in for a good night's rest...

...and then, Good morning, Istanbul!  The 5:45am call to prayer rising from the city and into our windows was a little startling coming out of a deep sleep.  Being my first time in a Muslim country I had no idea that I wouldn't have to worry about setting my alarm, for the amplified song-like prayers to start the day would do the job.  I opened my eyes and listened, unsure of what I was hearing, half-convinced I was still dreaming.  Chris, of course, slept right through it, but I listened to the whole thing before going back to sleep for a couple more hours.

We started the first day at the Blue Mosque, a grand and beautiful house of Muslim worship.  It wasn't required of visiting women to cover their hair, but they had covers available outside the doors where we took off our shoes, so I tried one out, out of respect, before entering this massive structure.  The ceilings were dizzying but the air very calm, despite the waves of tourists ever entering through the doors.  We chose not to visit during a time of prayer because I knew it would be too difficult for me not to photograph what I saw, something visitors are asked not to do.  So we wandered and took it in, appreciating the beauty of such a place, then went on our way to see the former mosque, Aya Sofya nearby.




This is where the stories and warnings truly begin for any future travelers to this great city, for we were and you will be pulled in to one of the many attempts to sucker you into considering buying a fine, Turkish carpet, what you would think must be the life blood of this place by the actions on its devoted vendors.

"Mr. Sarasota"

His English was perfect and he was wearing a Sarasota, Florida golf club jacket when he called out to us as we passed, making our way around other obvious salesmen to Sofya ahead.  "American?" he asked.  "Canadian," we replied without slowing down.  "I'm not selling anything, I was just curious.  I'm from Florida."  He smiled and we turned around, embarrassed of our rudeness.  "We are, too, actually" we said.  "I didn't think you sounded very Canadian," was his reply.

Aya Sofya, former mosque

And so the ruse began.  We were suckered into stopping to chat with a fellow Floridian, who turned out to be a Turkish man married to a South Carolina woman who has a house in Sarasota, or so the story goes.  We had no reason to question (strike that, we had yet to learn that we DID have reason to question), so we had a nice little conversation about Florida and Istanbul.  In the city to do some rug business (he sells in the States, you see), Mr. Sarasota was waiting for a friend in the square near Aya Sofya, enjoying the beautiful weather.  As we chatted (he even showed me his Florida driver's license), Mr. Sarasota asked if we planned on doing any rug shopping, and having stupidly not discussed this before leaving the hotel, we looked at each other for help, then answered honestly that we weren't sure.  Surely he was just curious, there are rug shops everywhere.  Well it turned out he's a manufacturer and seller of Turkish rugs (also a businessman in real estate, hotels, and restaurants), and offered to give us some hints on how to decipher between cheap and well-made, natural dyes versus chemical ones, a rip-off and a good deal.  "Do you have 15 minutes?  My office is just around the corner.  I sell wholesale so there's no sign out front advertising rug sales, but I do take clients by sometimes to take a look.  If you're going to buy a rug in this town, you need to know what to look out for."

Inside Aya Sofya

I know what you must be saying to yourself.  Just around the corner?  How convenient, of COURSE he's trying to make a sale!  But we had been pulled in, trusting him a little more because of his connection to our home state, wanting to believe he wasn't trying to lure us in to make money.  He's a successful businessman after all, he didn't need our money.  Bravo, Mr. Sarasota.

So against better judgement, we went for the lesson and the apple tea, both of which were great.  When fifteen minutes and a free lesson turned into nearly three hours and me really wanting to throw a few thousand dollars at him for a beautiful hand-woven, wool masterpiece of a carpet made with all natural dyes, it was clear we'd been had.  Luckily for us, Chris is more immune to such ploys than I, and we were able to escape without handing over a cent.  Mr. Sarasota had made excellent use of such sale tactics as authority (he was the owner and was the only one who could make us such an incredible deal), time sensitivity (we couldn't leave and think about it because he had an appointment and would have to call a guy with the credit card machine to run over since this office wasn't normally a shop for sales), and so on.  How could we walk away knowing we were throwing away such an amazing opportunity to own a beautiful piece of art which we could pass along to our children, paying just $3,000 instead of the $15,000 we would surely pay in the States?  He knew, KNEW we'd regret it once we got home and realized what a deal we let slip through our fingers.

Aya Sofya

So even though we lost a few hours on our first day in Istanbul to a sales ploy, we decided to call it a much needed lesson to start a trip that would surely be chock full of other opportunities to avoid.  (What was more interesting was upon scouring the internet that night at the hotel, Chris found descriptions of similar experiences with a Turkish man from Sarasota who had an office near Aya Sofya, with every weird detail lining up with our afternoon.  This man is skilled!)

Us in a few years?

Every line of children that passed was a long line of enthusiastic "Hello!"s

Inside the Basilica Cistern

Medusa Head One

Medusa Head Two

The rest of the day was more enjoyable, though slightly soured by the events of the morning as we lost a lot of time on one of the prettier days we'd have.  We made our way across Sultanahmet, the old section of Istanbul, walking through Aya Sofya and watching the fountain outside while groups of school children practiced their greetings in English on us.  We read about and visited the two Medusa heads down in the Basilica Cistern, and marveled at how many cats and dogs roam these streets.  The cats lounge on steps, window ledges, vendor tables, hanging rugs, and benches, while the dogs seemed to plop down just about anywhere for a snooze.  I was surprised at how well these strays seemed to be taken care of, as cats don't approach anyone who's wronged them and these cats were all over everybody.  The dogs, I noticed, had all been tagged in the ear and not one looked malnourished.  I guess Turkish hospitality doesn't stop with people.

And that was something that really stood out - the hospitality.  Having lived in Europe for nearly seven years thus far, Chris and I have grown accustomed to the world outside American customer service standards where wait staff live off tips and everybody's willing to go a little overboard for the sake of a happy customer.  In Istanbul, even though most of the time the warmth was likely motivated by the desire to lighten our wallets, it was still nice to be around.

Istanbul at night was just as beautiful as it was in the day, though we knew we had much more to explore in the coming days.  Our first day, Thanksgiving Day, concluded with some delicious Turkish cuisine at a restaurant called Amedros Bistro.  Excellent food, excellent service, and some nice tea at the end of the meal made for a memorable Thanksgiving in Turkey.

At the end of the evening that melodic question entered my mind... with how beautiful, friendly, and richly historic this place already was to us, why did Constantinople get the works?

That's nobody's business but the Turks.

...so what comes next?

Lemon Slushee is falling from the sky!

Wouldn't that be cool?

It's snowing outside, the first of the season, and since I wrote the first line, it's gone from slush to almost real snow.  It was an ice cold rain when Heidi went out a half hour ago, then morphed into slush, and now is gradually solidifying into fluff...weird since, usually isn't it the other way around?  But I digress.

I've been neglecting the blog.  When I think back to how incredibly supportive those who have been reading along with me have been, leaving me notes here or making real life comments in the land beyond the internet, I feel guilty for not keeping it up more consistently.  I think now as I've faced the milestone (and kind of scary one) of 30, it's time for what's next.

'Why does she harp on about 30, it's no big deal,' you ask.  But for someone who had expectations far greater than their present circumstances describe, 30 is the first evaluation point, the forced stop where all of this is judged.  And to be honest I've had some difficulty facing it.  Having fallen into a crazy fortunate situation I've not done badly, but I wanted more from myself, and it's hard to excuse that when I was such an over-achiever in my academic years prior to this wonderful chapter.  I wouldn't change anything about my life; I would, however, like to change the me in the middle of it.  I'm 30.  I can no longer hang onto the mentality that I've still got time, I'm in my 20's!  I don't have to grow up yet, it's not time to look at the next part of life, I'm in my 20's!  Because I'm not and it IS time to grow up a teensy bit more and face life's next chapter.  And whereas I'm excited to move into that next part, it's always scary leaving the familiar for the unknown.  Will I make something of my writing?  Will I fail and have to face that maybe writing, this part of who I am, is not what I should be doing?  Will we start a family?  Holy crap, and be somebody's parents?!  Making their decisions for them (which, I must admit, as a control freak sounds lovely at first), and hoping we're not screwing them up from the get-go?  And then not save them when they make the wrong decisions for themselves, but let them get hurt instead?  And then watch them grow up and go out and get their own lives and leave me behind like I didn't birth them from my own womb!

I get ahead of myself.  This is something I do, which overwhelms me back into a state of paralysis and not-doing, something out of which I need to grow.  Maybe that starts now.  Because here's the kick-start I may have been waiting for, the psychological punch to get me moving.  I do want to make something of my writing, and I do want to be a mother.  I want to do good things and contribute where I can.  But none of this even sets into motion until I make some changes, some commitments, and pour some super glue between me and them.

I'm not sure what will become of this blog, but I feel it might be ready to grow with me, and that's exciting for me.  What has thus far been a kind of sounding board for all that bounces around my head, a place to recount trips and visits, and a blank canvas ready for whatever I feel like splashing across it, might be in store for some morphing of its own.  I don't know yet, though, what I want it to be.  Many successful bloggers become that way by finding what makes them stand out in the blogosphere, a reason to be sought out among the masses.  A niche.  So what's mine?  Because once you define your niche, don't you have to stay there in all you write?  I don't think just me and my voice are unique enough to carry me to the next phase, as much as my ego would be delighted to think so.  So this is something I have to figure out, and perhaps a new blog will come of it, something more defined.  I'll let you know.

The snow has lightened up; I can see across the hills now.  Heidi has gone back upstairs to bed, but it's 8:30 in the morning and I have blogged something!  And it's something I think I needed to work out through my fingers, to see in typed words across my screen and know has been said.

After this, my focus will be on a new story I've been working on, something a little light-hearted, not my usual kind of short story.  We all need to step outside our comfort zones from time to time to see what's possible, right?

Thanks for reading.  I promise not to let so much time pass next time.

The Big 3-0

It's happening.  I'm officially stepping out of my 20's and into the next decade of life - but not till next weekend!  The party was Saturday and it was fantastic, thanks to some truly amazing friends.  

Farrah in Barbara Walters mode - me with a mouthful already

The night was a celebration of the 80's, with appropriate games and music to complement the Ghostbusters and Goonies posters hanging on the walls.  Farrah came armed with delicious mac 'n cheese to pay homage to a childhood favorite, as well as a list of trivia questions from the year 1980.  Though I do believe I surprised them all with my fabulous knowledge of my birth year, by the end I was three shots of green apple vodka and about six pieces of Bubblicious gum in the wrong.  You see, for each incorrect response I was forced to choose between a piece of gum and a shot.  I think the massive wad of sugar did more to me than the vodka!

Check out this wad!

Chris and I tried our hands at homemade pizza to celebrate my favorite food from the teen years, and for my 20's, Ashley provided mudslides all around.  I was extremely lucky to have friends willing to take over many of the responsibilities I first set out to conquer all on my own, since I decided long ago that I wanted a party for this milestone birthday.  Thanks to Angela and Diane, there were '30s' strung around the house, balloons in every corner, birthday confetti, candles, and everything needed for food, drinks, and cake in coordinating colors.  Diane also sneakily coordinated with my mom Stateside to obtain a slew of childhood pictures that were fantastic to see again, and stood about the room for everyone to see.  The pigtails, the spiral perm in the 4th grade, the snaggle-toothed grin and hair-sprayed bangs...it was great.

Diane, me, & Angela

After a while, Sara called everyone's attention to a challenging game of 'Name That Tune' that she organized, which stumped everybody at some point.  With plenty of food all around for munching and dipping (thanks to Diane and Farrah for the help), one might have scoffed at the idea of adding cake to this food fest.

Perhaps any other cake, but not this one, made by my friend Amy, who designed it, baked it, and graciously accepted the praise from every party guest as we dug into this chocolate-peanut-butter ecstasy.  I loved the book on top so much (it's made of cake, too!!!), I'm saving it to enjoy on the 13th (my actual birthday), if I can leave it alone till then!

In true Lindsey fashion I wrote a toast, and as I'm incapable of being brief, it stretched the length of one of those super long steno pads.  Here is what I subjected my guests to before rewarding them with champagne...

Thirty.  It probably seems silly to fear this number - after all, you've all already surpassed this particular milestone :)   I've been hanging out in my 20's for so long, what's wrong with staying there and holding onto that college age mentality that says it's not quite time to grow up yet?  But as all things do, life progresses, and instead of just planning where we're going next summer, I'm starting to plan for a family - though NOT YET.  I'm thinking more about hand moisturizer, the threat of wrinkles, and how the hell do I already have grey hairs?!  And just as I'm about to stomp my foot in protest and demand for all this to stop, I have to consider how kind life has been to me so far.  And this getting older doesn't seem so bad because I'm so excited to see what comes next.

I celebrated my 20th with Chris at the Roadhouse Grill in Gainesville, FL ten years ago, and how lucky am I to be ringing in my 30th with him still.  What I love most about this birthday is not only do I get to celebrate in this beautiful place with my best friend, I also get to do so surrounded by wonderful friends.  I'm lucky to have you all, and grateful for the friendship and for the opportunity to know each one of you.  As we're discovering more and more, it's the people connections that really make an experience, so thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making mine.

To what comes next.

Back: Chris Cole, Amy  (the fabulous baker), Chris L., Angela and Chad, Farrah and Brian, Ashley and Sean, Diane, Josh, and Scott
Front, from one arm of the couch to the other:  Peter, Suzanne, Heidi, me, Kristen, and Wayne
Floor-dwellers:  Sara and Rick