The #1 Reason I Like Metallica Is Because I'm Reminded of Sam Whenever I Hear Them

Listened to a lot of 'old' music today. Good music that reminded me of what seems like a lifetime ago. Sometimes I'm amazed at what I recall.

It could be that a select few songs will always remind me of a particular friend. It's also likely that I've had nearly 23 years to fall into a routine-like remembrance of her whenever the anniversary of her death rolls around. Undoubtedly, it is because of both things that my ride home from work was filled with so many memories of Samantha.

I found myself grinning without really knowing why, though I suspect it could have been because most of the times I was reliving during that 45 minute drive always had her smile. Driving around listening to Metallica nearly constantly, yelling at each other from opposite ends of the hall just to be obnoxious, days, strolling into the head shop like we weren't underage...oh, and a party or two.

When ...And Justice For All came out I'm pretty sure we burned through a few cassettes...especially in her car. Her propensity for dating guys who were abusive was the one thing I couldn't let slide. As an outspoken, blunt and filterless teenage girl, I didn't see that she needed me to be supportive and a shoulder to lean on more than she needed me to tell her what I saw. Our very last argument was about her very last boyfriend. I won't ever forget the wedge I let him and his actions drive between us, and then one day, it was too late to change any of it. She was gone.

March 17th, 1991 I lost one of my closest friends, but she left this world unaware that I could never hate her, never forget her, and that I would always remember the good stuff. Whenever I stroll through these memories of her, I never seem to recall the very things that left the rift that never was repaired. I see the tough girl who loved metal, makeup, working out and auto shop class. She sang amazingly, loved fiercely and through her I learned one of my most painful, yet most valuable lessons. Never let an opportunity to mend a relationship or tell someone how much they really mean to you pass by. Ever.

Gone Are The Days Of Pitter-Pattering Feet

There are a number of things I have heard my sons say that make me smile. Sure, there have been some things that have left me wanting to pull my hair out too, but I'm lucky enough that I've laughed more than I've stressed over the past eighteen years.

I reposted a photo of my sons and I on facebook earlier today, and I found myself just looking at how young the two of them were and being beside myself as to how quickly time has truly gone by. I haven't been able to cuddle up with either of them in quite some time, but back when that photo was taken, it was still possible. Six years doesn't seem like a long time when you've reached 42, but it's huge when your children go from 12 and nine to 18 and almost 15. The reality is that in youth, time passes too fast. Much, much too fast.

I rarely feel like I need time away from my boys, in fact, if they are gone too long I start going through withdrawals. I am well aware that this could make it tough to 'let go' when they decide to leave the nest, but for eighteen years I have been in love with my life as a mother. I don't like the thought that I will one day live in an empty house. No more teenage attitudes, joke playing or changing, cracking voices. No dirty clothes strewn about, no food wrappers and empty glasses left on end tables, just quiet, clean peaceful rooms. I have a plan however; when I'm most lonely, missing the sound of xbox and rap music, I will turn the television on, play music loudly and switch on every light in the house. I'll let the shower run for too long, leave wet towels on the floor and refuse to make my bed or put my clean clothes away. What? It could work.

Until the day when I have to watch each of them walk out the door for the last time as part of my household, and return to 'visit' I am hoarding every possible second I can with them nearby. And allow myself to be poked and teased so that I make ridiculous faces in family photos <3

Interactive Soul

Over the past seventeen years I've learned a thing or two about active listening and effective compassion. Every so often I find I need to draw on those skills. And I find I'm grateful to be the listening ear and the shoulder of support. Focusing on people gets me out of my own head and makes me realize what an amazing and complex thing life really is.

Sharing in someone's joy, pain, confusion, or anticipation helps me view the world around me through a wider lens. Not only do alternate solutions present themselves, new bonds and deeper friendships are created through understanding. It is a privilege to be confided in, shared with and leaned upon.

Sometimes just stepping out of your own life long enough to be welcomed inside someone else's is enough to appreciate yourself and who you are to those around you. Most of us don't know our true worth. Being able to see through the eyes and hearts of those closest to us makes it easier to acknowledge and believe our full value.

A Thousand Rays Of Happy All In One Smile

Zach Galifianakis. Maybe it's the beard, the raucous sense of humor, his overall stocky adorableness, I don't know, but he invaded and monopolized my dreaming state of being last night. I've been hauntingly perplexed all day as to why.

Having watched a slew of S.O.A. episodes, one might expect fabulous and slightly erotic dreams about Charlie Hunnam. Not my subconscious mind however. No, the bearded funny man graced my slumber instead. Even my dreams aren't what I expect them to be.

C'est la vie. How fun would life actually be if everything we imagined always happened exactly as we expected. Boring.

I like my life with a side of surprise and a dash of unpredictability; no matter what I might say or how I might react at the time. It makes memorable moments more memorable, and simple times more enjoyable. I mean, isn't an unexpected compliment or a warm smile the kind of thing that brightens a day? Even the smallest burst of happy makes life incredible.

Missing All The Color Of Warm Weather

I spent time with a friend I haven't seen much of in the past couple of months. Our time together left me warmed to the bone and feeling like the happiest version of myself. Oh how I miss the long, lazy days of summer sun.

Despite the copious amounts of snow still occupying the ground, the air was more springlike than winter and I loved every second of it. Now, of course having lived in Maine nearly all of my life, I understand that getting comfortable in warmer weather before May is foolhardy. Tempting as it is, I know the nasty winter blues have not finished with us by a long shot.

Still, it was pleasant sitting in the sun and daydreaming of summer. Beach days with my Kindle, sunscreen and ice cold water. (sigh) It sometimes seems as though those days are so out of reach when we seem to be mired in storm after storm, but just one nice day with the sun casting heated rays of brightness can put things in perspective. Summer will be here in just a few weeks; I've just got to hold on to whatever little previews Mother Nature chooses to give.

A Lifetime Of Friendship

I never need to look far for reminders of what incredible friends I have.Whether it is a song, a good laugh, or a peek into the likely future via someone else's friendship, I am instantly aware and thankful for the handful of wonderful women I call friends. Intensely blessed. The video above made me laugh, because this is just how my best friend and I describe the future we see for our friendship.

My best friend and I bonded over tears and tissues in the first grade. The school was Catholic, the tears were brought on by Jesus of Nazareth, shown during Lent. After that year I moved and we lost touch until freshman year in high school, but it was nearly as though no time had passed. Amazingly, it is the exact same way with her youngest son and my oldest. The two grew up with each other, but went separate ways during school, only to reconnect in high school. Of course they didn't go to the same school, but it didn't keep them from forging the kind of friendship that will last a lifetime.

I often remark on how much the two remind me of my bestie and I, and she completely agrees. Right down to their sense of humor. Maybe the only thing better than our woven history is watching the two of them create their own, and knowing even if they don't want us to be, we are part of that as well.

Should we live until we are hunched over, wrinkled and white haired, I hope our minds stay sharp and we can relive all our memories together. Tea and rockers. Cuss words, too.

What's Next?

Risk was not a big part of my life, as far back as I can recall. I've always possessed a healthy amount of respectful fear for anything just beyond total comprehension. If I couldn't predict or count on the outcome, I didn't pursue it.

I'm still not an avid risk taker, but I've grown to accept that sometimes it's the best way to move forward. Every time I take the smallest leap, I find that even if I don't land where I expected or intended, it's better than being stuck where I was, and in the end I am closer to where I want to be than I ever was before.

Embracing the fear, taking leaps and living life a little less 'safe'. Sitting still just isn't me.

One Day Not Too Long From Now, I Will Be Part Of The Older Generation

One of my favorite parts about the job I do is the opportunity to build relationships with people I might not otherwise meet. Regardless of how small town the area I work in truly is, I simply wouldn't cross paths with most of the people I am fortunate to call my clients were it not for what I do. It's probably the biggest reason I can't bring myself to work full-time in a salon closer to our new home. My soul is sewn into the fabric of my hometown.

I have the biggest soft spot for my older clientele. They have the life experiences that fascinate me, and whether they recall their lives in their entirety, or just bits and pieces, I find the time I spend with them incredible. Stories of simpler times, of growing up in an age that had moved on long before I was born have always grabbed my attention. Whether it is the first time I've heard a yesteryear yarn or the fiftieth, there is something relaxing about it.

Some of my older clients have dementia or Alzheimer's and while it is true I feel somewhat sad they have slowly lost so much of their life and independence, I am also amazed at the resilience of our minds. Long term memory is a gift, and though short term memory with these conditions becomes non-existent, it is a blessing the individual does not remember they are losing a battle with the cognitive functions they once possessed.

Routine, even if it isn't remembered minutes later, still brings a sort of calm to what can only be horribly frightening journey. Aging men and women remember many things from earlier in life, like a favorite food, family get-togethers, siblings, and yes, even haircuts. Trips to the barber or the beautician are one of the more frequent recollections shared with me by my older clientele. This, understandably, is of particular interest to me. A combination of history and hair, it's the next best thing to being able to travel back in time to experience what this job was like a lifetime ago.

Yes, my older clients have a special place in my heart and I cannot imagine a week at work without them. The interactions are somehow just a bit more real, maybe because these human treasures never became so wrapped up in social media and impersonal forms of communique. Those things are a part of my daily life, and while I enjoy the dimension and accessibility of technology, being reminded of a simpler, more basic time has a way of maximizing my appreciation for any of it.

I hope that when I reach that age I am able to convey memories that create the same fascination in the younger generation as the current older generation has done for me. Should there be a younger woman or man cutting, curling and styling my hair on a weekly or monthly basis, I hope that they are patient, kind, and show genuine interest in whatever I may be able to share verbally. May the art of face-to-face conversation not be lost among the social networks and instant messaging apps we have become so immersed in today. That we preserve timeless communication techniques...this is just one of my hopes.

Yes, My Kids Are As Foul-mouthed As Me

 There are things about parenting that I have chosen to be lenient or accepting of when it comes to my sons' behaviors. Were you to meet my boys in person, spend any amount of time with them, it's likely you wouldn't ever suspect they both swear like their mother. Colorful metaphors are perhaps some of my favorite means of expression.

Cuss words are engaging; I adore them. Does this make me less respectable or unfit to raise children? I hardly think it does either. Oddly enough, I believe this 'freedom of speech' at home is exactly why my boys are respectful everywhere else they go. I'd rather address issues at home then have to make apologies for them elsewhere.

There are far more things I would rather expend energy on than attempting to censor my sons' exploration of verbal expression. As long as they continue to do laundry, clean dishes, change their bedding and generally help with household chores, I'll consider their upbringing to be somewhat successful. Not focusing on what I see as trivial, allows me more time to instill life skills and important lessons.

How I approach my role as mom probably wouldn't work for everyone, but it works well for me. My sons are pretty badass, so I can't see the point in changing a thing.

Hey, Yeah You, I Have A Name And I Am Not My Job Title, Thanks

It might be trivial, and it is definitely an ego issue, but there is no way I mistook what happened earlier tonight. Completely belittled by a seemingly innocent comment. Sure, I shouldn't allow it to take up residence in my head, but the shock took a while to wear off.

When I'm out in public socializing, I run into a number of people I know from nearly every possible walk of life. Should any of these people approach me, I am cordial and do my best to introduce them to whomever I am with. Tonight, for instance, I was having dinner with one of my closest friends and a man walked over to say hello. I only really know him through facebook, but we have a few mutual friends. I turned and introduced him by name to my friend; fairly routine protocol in social situations. There have been times when I don't always remember where I know someone from or what their name is, but I always try to dispel awkwardness and fess up to whichever I am guilty of...hopefully making light of the situation. The point is I always try to acknowledge a person by name and make introductions. Should the nature of how I know that person come up, I always go with the path of least confusion...in other words, if our history is sordid, I simply say 'friend' or something similar. And I absolutely never introduce someone by their state of health, relationship status or the like; there is more to a person then the gossip they inspire in emotionally immature people.

Given my own social etiquette, I was completely taken aback when I was introduced as my job title by someone I know. I mean someone I would have called a friend; someone I have a history with so there is no possible chance they could have forgotten my name. "This is who cut my hair"...that was it. Not my name, or the fact that we were friends...nothing. I mean, I completely get that there was no need to delve into the fact that we had actually dated, but to not even say something like 'this is my friend Tammy who also cut my hair' or something...anything else? Clearly there is nothing between us, despite what I thought, other than a professional/financial monthly transaction. Yes, at the moment my ego is bruised. Not because all prior history and relationship we had were completely erased by that one sentence, but because that one sentence was designed to strip me of any dignity. I became my job, nothing more.

About the only direction that conversation could have continued with me in it might have been if one of the other three people had asked where I worked, or had they been even slightly intuitive, what my name was. Awkward isn't the best word to describe that brief encounter, but it's the only thing I can say at the moment. I cannot imagine being so wrapped up in my own disappointment at how my relationship/friendship with another person had changed that I would ever intentionally hurt them. Even in the most uncomfortable run-ins I make sure to be respectful and exhibit social standards I am capable of rising to. I may not be a person's biggest fan, but I'm not an asshole who would demean them just to retaliate or prove a point. It's as much about not making the situation awkward for anyone involved as much as it is exercising self-respect.

It isn't necessary to explain the ins and outs of how you know the person you are introducing to others, and most of the time less detail is appreciated by all parties. Having the decency and character to at least use the person's name is necessary and shows maturity and the ability to navigate social situations responsibly. Being nice isn't that hard, after all.

A Person's Greatest Value Is In Their Soul

I don't want what everyone else has. No, really I don't. I like the color green, just not on my soul. Every person I encounter has a different lifestyle; they do or don't have, but that doesn't mean I covet any of it.

There are nice vehicles, beautiful homes, amazing clothes and a never ending list of 'wants' that I cannot be bothered to envy. Why? There isn't enough time in the day to properly enjoy what my life is already blessed with, I wouldn't want to waste a second of it aching for the things I see that someone else may possess. People around me, whether I know them and they are part of my life or not, will always have something that I do not, but that doesn't mean I should cast aside the things I do have or compare apples to oranges.

I have never been wholly impressed by stature or wealth, of course I have never found myself thinking ill of someone for having both. Who I am has little to do with the things I have or some status quo I have not seemed to reach yet. My friends are my friends because of their sense of humor, their generosity of spirit and the overall aura they bring to my life. How they dress, what they look like, what they drive and who else they are friends with are not factors I focus on.

It is unimaginable to me that anyone who values material things or begrudges anyone who has more could ever be a person I would consider a friend. We are all here on this same planet ultimately attempting to do the same thing; live. Not everyone copes with life in the same way, so I work continuously on being more accepting and less judgmental. Everyone's comfort and sense of self-worth is based on their own life story, and who am I to label their choices and values wrong or right?

Acceptance doesn't mean agreement; what works for me does not always work for someone else. I don't need material excess to discover what I value and thrive with, but it doesn't mean another person is wrong if they do. This applies, at least for me, to relationships as well. When I am part of a couple, I do not surround myself with only other 'coupled' people, just as when I am single I do not associate with only other singletons. The relationship circumstance my friends have only serves to add interesting value to my personal relationship with them. Sometimes I identify with that part of their life, and sometimes I stand back and just admire it.

Ultimately, the most important thing a person can possess is their willingness to openly share. What they have? Sure, if that so suits them, but to share their experiences, emotions and enthusiasm for life - that is what life should be about. There is no perfect way to be, no list of dos and don'ts that are universally correct; I'm satisfied to weigh a person's value on their soul and manner of being and let financial institutions and assessors continue to value possessions. The human spirit is immeasurable, after all.

I Cheated And I Loved Every Second Of It

I got to spend the day with my baby boy. And I made a conscious decision to jump off the gluten free wagon in a rather big way. I ate pizza, but not just any pizza. I willingly consumed the epic 'slab' from Mucucci's Grocery. Every single bite was worth feeling less than stellar later. I'm grateful I don't have Celiac, and I'm indebted to my friend for telling me about the store's signature 'slabs' to begin with. So good.

Occasionally it's alright to step off the current path, so long as it doesn't become a regular occurrence. Good as it was, I won't be doing it again anytime soon. I'm sure the buttery, doughy goodness of that pizza wouldn't be nearly as amazing if I didn't abstain from gluten bread type foods. 

There really isn't anything as good as the gluten version of bread. Just like the first season of Lost. I'm not sure what occurred in the writing process (and honestly, I was a faithful follower of the show), but as I go through the series again I realize that it went on far too long and much of that first season's intensity and creative storytelling seem to fall by the wayside with each subsequent season. I mean, much in the same way that pizza is always good (though not as good as the first slice following a gluten-free spell), the series was good, just not as good as the first season set it up to be. Of course this is just my opinion. 

Knowing And Being

Being part of the world around me, no matter how big or how small a part I am given, is something I believe I must invest all of myself into. It isn't always how big of an impact you make. Sometimes it's how far the ripples reach.

It's crazy how most of the time life goes by, without having the impact of being that it probably should. There are moments here and there; far too often those are comprised of negative or painful experiences when there are so many more uplifting and wonderful moments we skim over or ignore. All too often we fail to see the silver linings.

This has been an emotional day; intense for a number of reasons. I've shed as many tears as I've had bursts of laughter and without the two extremes I might not be experiencing the gravity and full appreciation for each breath and beat of my heart keeping me solidly connected to life. There does not need to be an earth-shaking event for me to value this life, just the willingness to be open to even the most unassuming occurrences and see them for what they are, the gifts of simply being.

Winter Is Sucky

Storm after storm, this snow is beyond old. I know I live in Maine. I know winter means snow. That doesn't mean that I can't get tired of it and be exasperated by the sheer redundancy the past few months have been.

For the first time in over a decade I am driving a vehicle without 4-wheel drive and frankly, it's zero fun in bad weather. One of my biggest pet peeves about winter in Maine is the ridiculous notion some people possess. Driving in wicked weather isn't something that proves a person a 'true' Mainer, and despite getting good experience keeping all four on the pavement, any intelligent person knows enough to STAY HOME when conditions are bad. The whole "you're from Maine, you should be use to it" mantra is tired and ignorant. Not every vehicle on the road here has AWD or 4WD; I mean there are models that simply do not have those features as options. The most telling feature of a Maine driver is the the intelligent assessment of safe driving conditions. 

It is my opinion that those who choose to drive during snow and ice storms and do so at normal/excessive speeds are the people who should 'be use to it' and use caution like their own and others' lives depend on it. Oh wait, it does. 

The key to driving well in inclement weather, is first and foremost, knowing when not to. 

Small Steps

There are always going to be people in your life, or who just cross through it, that push the door open just enough to allow negative reactions to run free inside you. Recognizing these people, and more importantly the triggers they set off, is the only way keep composure. That's really just the tricky part; the hard part is utilizing that recognition to extinguish the negativity before you do anything rash.

I'm not great at that part, but I've gotten much better than I once was. Some triggers are more difficult to move past without becoming upset than others. I've found that, for me, the times that I allow myself to get mad are typically because my ego has been insulted in some way. Whether the person on the other end of the offense intended to evoke that type of reaction or not, I am responsible for if and how I respond. Even when the desire to react instinctively is what most of us would consider justifiable.

It's amazing how quickly the flame of anger or sense of injured pride can spread through a person. Taking a step back at least stops it long enough to make the choice to backtrack and react in a way that diffuses the situation. Actually sitting with the discontent or frustration rather than announcing it to the world, is another. Probably the two in combination are the most effective way to gain positive energy and composure.

Practice makes progress (nothing is ever perfect).

Slap Happy Or Snow Hives?

I laughed consistently through the last 4 episodes of Parks and Recreation that the boys are watching...clearly, I'm watching it as well. My youngest has mocked my laughter...I've decided I don't care. Besides, he's sitting on the sofa with me; a feat in and of itself.

Even though I may think I'm as funny as Amy Poehler, my sane side realizes I'm not. Still, I have to give my sons something to roll their eyes at, otherwise they will walk around with unhealthy 'my mom is the bomb' delusions. And just for fun, I play it up by seemingly being unaware I'm awkward.

I like this show; though I find it a bit odd I relate to both Ron Swanson and Chris Traeger. Positive thinking and outlook most of the time, pragmatic realist with a blunt, curt delivery occasionally. I wonder if I'd laugh half as much watching my life as I do this show...

Today was a Ron Swanson kind of day. I know I live in a state where it snows like freaking crazy in the winter, and yes I know how to drive in bad weather. It appears there are individuals who are oblivious to safety and greet it with rudeness. Asshats, all of them. I love what I do, but staying open later for a $17 haircut is NOT worth risking an accident driving on increasingly bad roads. And certainly not when it's for an entitled jerk. Of course there were far more clients that were more than willing to move up their appointments or reschedule altogether. It's nice to know there are more conscientious people out there then jerks.

There are also a number of Andys, Toms and Donnas, but I don't ever feel like them. And thankfully I NEVER feel like a Jerry. I do adore Leslie and Ben. My mother is retiring from the local recreation department this year, and in all the time she has worked there, it has never once been even slightly like this show. Bummer. I'd have probably stopped by more often just for the entertainment if it had been.

Some Days It Might Be Enough To Simply Be Alive

I'll take all of it. The heartache, the joy, misunderstandings, surprises, elation, physical pain, achievements, gut wrenching emotional turmoil, fear, apprehension, excitement...ALL of it. At the end of the day I am alive and regardless of what transpired from the time I awoke until the time I fall asleep, I lived.

So long as I made every effort to do so without ill-will toward another, I've done it well.

Overthinking Can Be Misleading

Sometimes doing the nice thing is anything but nice. The ability to say no, unless it involves my children, is something I have yet to master. Hell, I haven't even gotten any real practice with it.

The thing is, I try to keep an open mind and welcome new experiences, because I know growth requires challenging boundaries. And of course, being a good and accepting person, requires faith and the willingness to risk comfort. Sometimes I find I push myself well beyond risking comfort and I end up in situations that quickly become uncomfortable.

Beyond that discomfort is the realization that I often forgo opportunities to say no to avoid difficult honesties. I don't lie well, but I'm not always as truthful as I should be. It isn't always about sparing someone's feelings, it's often more about staying inside your own comfort zone. That comfort can be misleading, because not being honest initially just makes it tough when the next opportunity presents itself. And undesirable situations are born.

All the discomfort I thought I might avoid magnifies and takes on a life of its own unless I finally do what I should have when I thought I was being nice. It's not nice to myself to suppress how I feel, and it's not nice to whomever the other party is no matter what I might initially think. Difficult as it may be, honest is the only way to go. It may take the nice out of things, but if there is no ill-will it can't be all that bad.

Love Our Furrball Like Nothing Else

Watching my cat sleep off and on all day (and seeing numerous pet videos that made me tear up), I felt fortunate to know he is so incredibly loved by my sons and I. He has definite reactions and relationships with each of us. Somehow he seems to know that I'm mom and what I say goes, he loves to sit and chill with Brayden, but he jumps up and runs to greet Riley from wherever he may be. Like it or not, Riley is his favorite human. Given the choice between spots to curl up and cuddle, he will nearly always choose the one next to Riley, even if it's a tight squeeze. I'm somewhat jealous of this, though since I sit on the same sofa, I often get quality kit-kat time. So many animals are not given the love and life that allows them to be happy and relatively carefree, and this baffles and saddens me greatly. A house without a loved, treasured and spoiled pet is no home I would ever want to call mine. Domesticated animals are dependent on us for everything, the most important thing being love.









Sure he may get under foot and cause near neck-breaking falls down the stairs, he scratches my furniture when I'd prefer he didn't, there's the never-ending maintenance of a litter box, and he seems hell bent on waking us up periodically in the wee hours of the day. We might mutter that he's a jerk, or accidentally step on him when he decides to stop midway as we descend/ascend the stairs, but the moment he mews or jumps up to lay across our legs it's all forgotten.

It's amusing to watch him maneuver himself up into a chair and then plop down as though he were a person; arm perched on the armrest, staring out the sliding glass door. I love how he mimics us talking to him and meows back as though he's answering. This 16lbs of fluffy feline has brought so much love into our lives, I cannot imagine there will come a day when we will have to say goodbye.

He is not the most spoiled cat, but we adore him and are happy he is part of our family. I only wish that all furrkids were given the blessing of loving and caring families. As I sit here, my leg nearly asleep from supporting the weight of Sim-sim's sleeping girth, I know we are just as lucky to have him as he is to have us. For as long as we are allotted, this cat will be showered with everything we have.

No Lady Macbeth reciting here...

"Out, damned spot! out, I say!" - Lady Macbeth

Maybe I ought to want to hide my hands after a day of work. More often than not they are color stained. I wear gloves, but sometimes the color transfers, my gloves tear, or I clean bowls with bare hands. Truthfully, I actually like seeing color stains on my fingers...it reminds me that I was immersed in creativity.

Unlike a mechanic or pressroom operator, the telltale signs of my job rarely lasts beyond the day, so it's rather easy to resist the urge to scour and scrub until my hands are raw. Bearing the evidence of a good day's work is something I don't believe anyone should ever make excuses for. If your hands, clothes or shoes collect debris from whatever you do, I say wear it proudly (until you go home and change).

It has been my experience, though I'm not quite sure why or if it's a wide held opinion, that people don't always see what I do as work. Maybe because it's fun. It doesn't look like work...well, not the generally-held-idea-that-work-looks-unpleasant look anyway. Somedays I can't believe I get paid to play with hair either!

Of course, my phone is always going off with client texts, calls and facebook messages, and my back is feeling the wear and tear of long hours standing behind the chair. This is when even I can't deny that what I do is truly work. It might not be saving the world, but the emotional impact a visit to the hair stylist has can uplift someone who does have an occupation of more 'importantance' (and I use that word simply for lack of a better one at the moment).

Simply put, what I do may not have upfront measurability next to some professions, but the ripples of a person having confidence and renewed self-love because they feel good about their appearance is actually pretty huge. Thankfully I am not the type of person who needs others to see what I do as work or important. I love it, color-stained hands and al.

You Can't Always Have What You Want

I love OTTO pizza. Even their gluten free crust. Who would've thought squash, ricotta cheese and cranberries would make epic toppings? LOVE them!

During the past two years, one of the things I have missed most being gluten free is pizza. Really, bread dough of any kind. It's next to impossible to find adequate substitutes for the soft, chewy decadence wheat flour creates. It is sad and there is not suitable comfort. Sure, there are bread offerings in the freezer case of most supermarket health food sections, and while they are passable, they are not the real thing. By far, the best tasting crust for pizza sans gluten around these parts is from Portland Pie Company (imo). It still isn't the original. (sigh)

When you're seeking consolation or replacement...an alternative to what you once loved, there are always aspects that will never truly fit the bill. After all, what you find isn't what you once had and loved, and never could be. The negative effects of gluten consumption, for me, are enough to avoid consuming them, but that doesn't mean I won't continue the search for substitutions. My comfort food has long been bread type products, so giving them up entirely is just out of the question.

I have found that at the very least, the cravings for such foods is somewhat satisfied with some gf selections. I have accepted replacements for beer, pizza, pasta and some baked goods. I rarely pout about not having the wheat versions of these, but as for bread, I'm still searching for a brand that doesn't leave me chugging half a liter of water with every bite because it's insanely dry. I believe I am slowly accepting that my life will be absent of amazing bread, but I will manage to get along just the same. No sense pining over what once was.

Taking stock in the numerous food options available to me every day, I celebrate my two favorite gf beers, my favorite pasta and I enjoy testing out gf versions of old favorites. Life isn't perfect and I know I can't have it all, so embracing the things I do have and can enjoy makes the sting of what is gone forever a bit less painful. And OTTO gave me a little more to be happy about tonight.

It's Not As Difficult As It Seems

Realizing the gravity of my mistakes, particularly in parenting, gives new meaning to the word humble. It is hard to avoid the feelings that you might have missed an opportunity to do more, or that you outright failed your child. Being a parent is an amazing, terrifying and stressful journey.

Admitting you were wrong or didn't handle situations the way you should have is never easy, and when your apologies are to your child, they're painful. Of all the things I've set out to teach my sons, apologizing when I'm wrong has been one of the most difficult. No one enjoys admitting they were wrong, it's an ego thing. And whether they admit it or not, parents allow their egos to get far too interwoven in raising their children. 

Ego is why we push our ideas and visions on our sons and daughters, why we attribute their characteristics, humor, physical features, and intelligence to the genes we passed down, and the reason we brag about their accomplishments as though they were our own. We call them mini-me, junior, daddy or mommy's big guy or princess, and deny them their own personality each and every time we do it. They are our children, but they are not us. 

The same ego that convinces a parent that their genetics alone have created the awesome offspring they clap on the back when they are proud, is also what prevents them from setting the important example of owning their mistakes. Who wants to be wrong in their child's eyes? I think it's better to demonstrate humility and do so without being visibly reluctant, than to raise a child that has no idea how to make amends and mean it. 

I fly off the handle and say things I shouldn't, I make decisions I wish I could undo, but I don't blame anyone or anything for my shortcomings. My sons know that I'm human, and I hope they aren't afraid to accept when their own flaws are in the spotlight when they wish they had stayed off stage. It's not the apology that's uncomfortable and awkward, it's that moment the curtain is pulled back and your ego is standing their embarrassed for being pigheaded.

Wandering Mind

Information is something that I have come to realize I thrive on. I need details, facts, and examples to keep things tied together in my head. Otherwise I have all these random thoughts floating around vying for my attention and I don't exactly always know why. Crazy? Probably, but who isn't?

When I say I like details, I don't mean gossipy details. Truthfully, I come by those fairly regularly just because of my gender, and of course my choice of career. When someone talks about their significant other, I love hearing how they met. A client talks about their kids, I'm compelled to ask how many, their ages, etc. I enjoy hearing about people's lives, though that should not be mistaken for an opportunity to complain and whine about their negative garbage. We've all got it, but people don't need to know or hear about every last horrible event in our lives.

I like being able to witness positive attitudes helping someone rise above their difficult times. It's probably why I'm such a sucker for underdogs. When a person refuses to let hard times define them, but instead draws strength and motivation from them...that's inspirational.

Seeing a person's character is far better than just hearing about how well adjusted, dedicated or admirable they are from others. For me it's similar to reading a book instead of watching the movie. Taking in details and seeing a fuller picture without the prejudice of outside influence...our minds were are designed to work hard and decipher the world around us. Information from nearly anywhere can build a clearer picture, but only the right kind of information can paint a beautiful scene.

One Old Guard Soldier's Selfless Act

Snow days are good for something I suppose. On the rare occasion I get to have one, I am home with my sons, being lazy. It's almost as though the weather gave time permission to slow down for awhile.

As I sat and watched the white fluffy stuff collect on the tree branches, it occurred to me that even weighed down the trees were incredibly beautiful. Their resilience is inspiring and not all that unlike our own when aspects of life burden our souls. Just like the more delicate trees that never seem to fully bounce back after weathering a storm, there are those among us who never fully overcome their hard times.

When we go about our days, pushing through work and whatever it takes to keep our lives progressing, it's easy to miss people caught up in their own struggles who might need help along the way. True happiness certainly requires hard work and dedication, but a certain degree of compassion as well. If the sun didn't provide the warmth that unburdens the trees, they would stop growing and producing life elements that sustain the environment. Should we continually ignore those who are less capable or bear heavier burdens than us, refusing to 'get involved', we contribute to the destruction rather than the expansion of human decency.

I was raised to be caring and giving, but I can attribute the full awareness to the impact selfless gestures have on those around us to one specific event in my life. Though I have written about it before, I've never publicly connected what occurred to this awareness. Had just one thing been different, I may not have arrived at the place I am at this moment.

Traumatized, disoriented, terrified and alone, I wandered in the dark through an area I did not know in the wee hours of the morning. I had just been violently raped in the backseat of my own car and left someplace I did not recognize; my one thought was to get as far away from my car and the direction my rapists had gone. I ran into the road after attempting to flag down a few cars that passed by. Maybe they didn't see the disheveled and distraught young girl on the side of the road as their headlights passed over her. Maybe they were scared. Maybe they couldn't be bothered to care. Not fully aware of what I was doing, I crossed traffic and stepped in front of a small truck. The driver stopped, and as I approached his door, he got out and asked me if I was alright. He walked me to the passenger side and helped me in, as cars passed and maneuvered around him. During these seemingly endless minutes, I recognized that I was not far from where I lived. This man brought me home, walked me up the stairs to my apartment and stayed at the door until the police arrived. I later found out that he lived in a building across the parking lot from mine. Years later we were given the unbelievable opportunity to get to know one another when my case was finally solved and went to trial. He couldn't have known that night that his actions would revisit him thirteen years later, interrupting his life again, but once again he did not hesitate to act with compassion and decency. I will never be able to adequately thank or repay this man for his selfless actions; at least not directly. He may never know that when he put his own life on hold and immediately helped that girl he didn't know, he saved the part of me that had given up hope just an hour and a half before when my screams went unheard or ignored the moment I was abducted.

In less than two hours time the importance of acting to help someone in need, no matter how that might be was permanently etched into the person I was; growing and changing as I have these last twenty-two  plus years. It isn't that I wasn't already capable of recognizing a person who might need a little help, but I hadn't yet understood the impact my action or inaction could truly make.

It shouldn't require painful events to grasp the concept that we are all here on this earth together, and helping or being there for one another can make life more meaningful for everyone. Even if help never came, it only takes one positive act to start moving in the right direction. Each of us has the ability to stop negativity and selfishness, and create a pattern of love and positive energy. Together we are the sun that's warmth unburdens the trees.

We May Be One, But None Are The Same

I have the most difficult time maintaining my composure and pleasant personality when dealing with uppity people. The kind of snobbish attitude that values stature and material superiority to genuine kindness and real character. I won't ever understand the prioritization of things and money over all else. And for that, I am wholly relieved.

My vocation has given me the somewhat unique experience of interacting with individuals from nearly every walk of life. The level of service I provide is never based on where someone falls in socioeconomic brackets, nor ethnic background. How engaging I am is dependent on the character the person in my chair choses to project, though I will never cut a service short or be blatantly rude. There needs to be a certain amount of tolerance in order to maintain my professional integrity and reputation.

While I have been able to effectively stave off external reactions to what I find to be shortsighted, shallow behaviors, I want to do more than just keep calm. Avoiding being affected at all is unlikely, but being able to at least let what I cannot understand and see as selfish and petty fall away without much impact on my balance would be a good start.

I know that it takes all types of people to make up the world we live in, but it is trying to let go of what I see as right without holding someone else up to those expectations. Where is the line between acceptance and complacence? At some level are we not beholden to one another simply for humanity sake? Of course, the question then becomes how do we agree on what should or shouldn't be valued and exemplified?

Maybe just stepping back and recognizing that we are individuals is the first step. From there, I've chosen to surround myself with like-minded people who value at least a fair amount of the same things as I do. Complete agreement or exact lifestyle is far from necessary, as I more than appreciate the unique attributes my friends and family bring to my life. It is the people I come in contact with sporadically, that I find I have the most issue with my own internal assessments. Judgment is unavoidable. Civility, however, is not.

Regardless of where I think I ought to be in my own personal growth, my feelings or judgments do not provide me placement over people I do not respect or agree with. I am entitled to disagree, though to minimize the effect on that person or anyone else, setting my feelings or ideas about them aside until I can process them alone is likely best. Nothing good comes from fueling fire with explosive energy.

The things that vex me...yes, this is an actual sample of the things that occupy my consciousness.

Hansel And Gretel, The Avengers...It's An Action Packed, Fantasy Kind Of Night (and I had NO idea Jeremy Renner was in both!)

What's better than experiencing bliss or happiness in some random moment? Recognizing it and pulling it closer to revel in it. I love that I am self aware to the point that I the moment I feel the budding of elation or sheer contentedness I can stop, take it all in and really feel the enormity and wonder of it all.

It doesn't matter how small the reason may seem, the intensity of the emotion is always increased when it is embraced. Earlier today, for instance, I was driving home from my PT appointment and thinking about my kids, life and how incredible it is to finally be part of an environment that's energy is on the same frequency as I am. Intoxicating and fulfilling, to say the least.

At their worst, these moments are fleeting, but the positive vibes they ignite linger; if you're lucky, for days. So imagine all the great progress a person could make with a series of happy instances fueling their positive output. The more positive, the closer our own frequency gets to that of the things we and people that best benefit our life balance.

When we add our energy to the like energy around us, the possibility for improvement, change, and the sustainable flow of prosperity increases. Knowing when to dig deep and be completely willing to deplete your own happy stores for the benefit of another takes faith. Faith in yourself and your purpose; a belief that you can and do make a difference in the world around you.

My faith isn't as strong as I'd hoped it might be by now; I hesitate and weigh things far longer than I should. I want to forge ahead, doubting nothing when my actions are for good. Tonight I took a daring leap, because I know that my own hesitations are minuscule compared to the good that will come from embracing the happiness I currently possess, and then gifting it to others who are in incredible need of positive energy.

Bruno Sure Does Entertain

Occasionally I labor over just how much is too much when it comes to sharing personal information in what I write. There are half written files littering my hard drive, with thoughts that reveal more than I might be comfortable putting online. At least at the time they were written. Of course if too much time passes, the relevance of such telling words comes into question.

What is a writer to do? I believe, for me, if simply writing the words down does not quite my thoughts, finding a way to share yet maintain my own personal comfort boundaries is the next step. For the most part, I think I've figured out how to do this. Now if I could manage to make it work in a book...

The big game is a disappointment this evening...unless you are a Seahawks' fan. The commercials are lacking in nearly every way, and I find myself wishing for the big reveals of years past. Currently awaiting a confusing choice for the half-time show, and I'm unable to imagine what a Bruno Mars and Red Hot Chili Peppers mash-up will produce. Yikes!

As far as sharing, I'm a bit hungover still to do it well. Today's aftermath of a night of fun will serve as quite a reminder for some time to come. Overindulgence is not something I am able to do often and I can never do it well, nor do I want to. Shots are not a good idea. Ever.

I expect that it will take another good night sleep for me to feel like myself again. Maybe even a good idea to detox the next few days. I'll spare any of those details, however. You're welcome.

Clubbing Most Definitely Has An Age Limit

At the moment...actually through a good part of the night, I've weighed the wiseness electing to have 18-yr old son be my DD. Not that I get drunk when I go out, but I'm trapped between giving him a live instance of responsible consumption and being the mom I've always been. It's a catch 22 for sure.

And then there's the whole eating GLUTEN while having had a drink or two...bad news I tell ya! I'm a carbaholic by nature so add a little alcohol to the mix and I will gorge on all things wheat like there's no tomorrow. Were I to have my head about me, I'd see that gluten and alcohol are not friends, no matter how much I might want to think so. As I write this I am well aware that the peanut butter cookies I chose to pilfer from the stash the kids had set aside will haunt me to no good end. Of course I will just have to deal with that in a few short hours.

Next to Oreos, in case you're wondering, peanut butter (with gluten) ANYTHING serves as the most tempting food. Every few months, it seems as though I need to binge on gluten to remember why it is I don't consume it on a regular basis. Absolute yuck!

I was slammed into, brushed up against and knocked on my ass by people far more inebriated than I this evening. I didn't enjoy any of it. Drunk people are essentially assholes without the balance and held-togetherness of respectable people. Of course that's just assholes in general, isn't it? (sigh)

Imma just go to bed and regret nothing in mañana. I love certain people for the energy they bring to life, but I can love it without Jell-O shots or loud, obnoxious bars with go-go dancers and nasty ass tooter shots. Ick. Yuck. This girl is going to bed after antibacterial fumigation and purification.