Groupon valid for one good life

Hey, September...we all know you’re here, so just simmer down a bit would ya? We’ve only been together a week. I promise you have no need to feel threatened by August; he’s out of my life for at least a year. But, i’ve got to hand it to you, Septy Sept Sept -of- the -ember, you sure got my attention. You really are a fan of extremes I can tell...at first I didn’t think we were going to get along with those three very emotionally disturbing celestial discharges you took from my caseload...but then you also brought some really really good news about friend's pregnancies and unexpected financial boosts, so no hard feelings.  Nevertheless, despite the good news, I was really having a hard time with the bad news you brought ; it really hit me close to home, so I had to do a little therapy for my soul this past weekend. So, I got myself a massage, floated down a river in a tube, and scored a few sweet metaphors (holla....you know how I loooove me a good metaphor...hmm, wonder if I could be one for Halloween...)

Anyway, through sheer magic, now more commonly known as the “Groupon”, I scored myself a 75-minute hot stone massage for fifty bucks . Whenever I buy a Groupon, I never really know what I’m getting myself into... I “click to buy” and hope for the best.  It usually works out for me, but as I pulled into the spa parking lot to redeem said Groupon, I started having second thoughts. For one, the building was lime green. For two, the building was lime green.  Nevertheless, I woman’d up...put my cell phone on vibrate and walked in. I was pleasantly surprised, as the internal atmosphere of the place was downright serene. I took a seat as I waited and looked around. Then, in an interval of what could have been no longer than 30 seconds, I noticed the sign that read “Nourish Spa is now doing business as ‘ THE WAX SHACK’ , looked down at my legs, saw the stripe that I had missed in the leg-shave-rush that AM (you all know what I’m talking about, you’ve done it too), and then looked up  as I heard “ready to come back Sara?” to see a giantess before me. I thought to myself “this bitch gon’ killll me or wax me or somethin”, but it was too late. I had been spotted. So I did what every respectable scared hairy-legged massage patron does. I went in the back and got naked under the sheets for Goliath's wife.

As I lay there, Tiny prepared the hot rocks that she was going to use to cook my beef ( I mean, massage my muscles). When she initially placed the first rock on my back, my reaction was “holy hot shit in a bottle”. But, as she continued to work on me, I eventually learned to not resist and actually relax. With time, I found that the pressure of going under the hard stuff actually softened me up like nothing I’d ever experienced before. And after it was all said and done I felt at least two inches taller, more flexible, and freakin’ amazing. 

Do you smell my metaphor a’ comin?...there’s a 75% chance I’m going to make it rain analogies! But hey,don’t get too excited yet...I don’t give it up that easy. Well, actually I do , I just have another metaphor I want to squeeze in because we all know they make me so happy. So I’ll make it quick. 

Being it a gloriously long weekend and all, I went with some friends tubing down Rainbow river. There’s just something about floating down a river in a tube that is pure goodness for the soul. Anyway, being spring-fed, that water is freakin freezing. So, like the hot stones, when my butt first made contact, my initial reaction was to curse and bail. However, as I waited it out, and let the current float me to my final destination, I ended up with nature’s best therapy session. 

Such is life...sometimes things happen that just burn (or freeze) us. Yet, if we stick these times of dis-ease out, we can become the better for it.  When my mom died, I felt I had been jipped out of life. I didn’t see any “perks” for myself in the overwhelming amount of responsibility with which I was bombarded. Suddenly, people relied on me. Bills to be paid...birthdays to be remembered, closets to be cleaned... all were on me.  Furthermore, people needed me to be ok so that they too could have “permission” to progress. Game on. 

Previous to that, I had been stagnant in a world of little responsibility. Not knowing how much bigger life could get, I made drama for myself. I would swim against the current of life in regards to my career, relationships, and friendships until I felt like I was drowning. I’d worry and I would fret over nothing ,and I would judge other people until I  just really didn’t even like myself anymore.Yet, I did not have the perception or understanding that I do now to even guess as to what I was doing wrong. Then, with that one phone call, I grew up. I learned that, in an instant, your world can be turned upside down. I’ll admit, the shock was initially too much, and I heavily considered moving away from it all...yet, as I stuck it through, and opened myself up to the changes that the experience could offer me, I found myself happier, more flexible, and a little taller, just like after my massage.

    For some reason, I've always invisioned God as a sort of “Academic Advisor” who sits our spirits down before birth, puts his spectacles on, and asks ‘ok now, what do you want to major in in this life?’...and then signs us up for experiences accordingly. If I had to pick between staying stagnant in my own undecided life major versus going through the emotional-roller coaster of Orphanhood 101, as much as I miss my mom, I’d still have to pick the latter.  That course has pushed me forward into a world of enlightenment and spiritual progression that I would not give up for anything. 

So, as tempting as it can be because sometimes the initial shock of change just bites, don’t jump out of the water. Don’t wallow in the negative experience and drown either. As out of control as it may feel at times, it’s always best to just go with the current, and allow yourself to mature with the experience.  Don’t worry, if you let it, the current will inevitably take you to where you need to go. Those who are the happiest are often those who have suffered most. Don’t let some Giantess scare you away from what could be the best ride of your life...change can be good. Rock on Goliath, rock on.  

Heavenly Confessions of a Muggle

Before I go any further, let me preface with a disclaimer: I am 100% Muggle. I am not psychic, I don’t see auras, and I don’t even get visions of what I’m going to have for dinner, much less the future. Nevertheless, I’ve seen things. Things that I’ve kept inside for a few years now and have only shared with those drunk or crazy enough not to judge me after the telling.  But something has shifted within me lately where I’m now ready to come out of the spiritual closet; i’m ready to throw my tale out there for the world to judge. Actually “ready” is an understatement, as I feel like I pretty much have to or I’ll burst. Maybe someone out there needs to hear this and that’s why I suddenly feel pushed to open the floodgates and let ‘er rip. Anyway, I figure busting out with a story like this one is an easy way to find out who your real friends are ;)
Last week I had the very humbling experience of being called (well more specifically, paged through hospital pager) to help a long-term patient of mine comfortably transition from this life to the next.  As I provided comfort measures, I glanced over at his family, and was taken aback as I saw reflections of my own family, two years prior, as we waited with my mom. I saw the uncertainty in their eyes, reflecting the confusing combo of wanting the gut-wrenching waiting to be over while simultaneously wanting anything but that. The emotions feel like the world’s worst break up meets up with motion sickness while having a hot date with starvation and then hooking up with exhaustion while getting amped up on Red Bull. It’s basically the emotional date from hell.  In a glimpse at their faces, I remembered those emotions and the million questions I had at the time about how the whole dying and heaven thing was going to work. But then I glanced up at my patient’s eyes, and I saw something truly spectacular. (This is the part where I start to sound crazy). I saw, quite clearly in each of his half-open eyes, a perfectly shaped, glimmering little white star. My first impression was “oh damn, I forgot to turn the lights down low, I suck butt at comfort measure-izing”...but then I looked around and there was absolutely nothing emitting light that could be reflecting so perfectly in his eyes. As my comatose patient gave a half-smile, I realized what was happening. I later confirmed it with my co-worker who had witnessed this before in dying patients; my patient saw heaven and , furthermore, appeared to be pretty stoked about it.
Now, let’s rewind to two and a half years ago, to my experience of which this “starry” episode reminded me. Its 2 AM, April 4, 2009, and I’m on an air mattress in Palm City, Florida, deep in REM sleep. My mom is 45 minutes away in Hospice care, but the doctors had assured us that she would be with us a few more days, so we all went home to get some rest.  All of a sudden, I am jolted out of my sleep by someone pushing me. It wasn’t a rude “jerk you’re on my side of the air mattress” push, but an eager push, similar to the excited shoves I would give my parents when they were sleeping in too late (ie past 6 am) on Christmas morning.  I opened my eyes and glanced over at the air mattress next to me to see my boyfriend at the time snoozing away. I turned my head the other way to try and figure out who woke me up. All of a sudden, very clearly, I “saw” in my mind’s eye my mom standing at these beautiful large gates. She was waving at me, clearly very excited and eager to go inside, but holding herself back to make sure it was ok with me. She reminded me of a kid eager to get out of her parents car to meet up with friends to go into a kick-ass new theme park, but politely holding back to make sure it was still ok with the ones she was leaving behind and not taking with her. It felt like a daydream, but amped up to the point where it felt like reality.  That being so, I gave a “go ahead, its ok” wave, and she excitedly went in. Afterwards, I laid there for a minute, wondering if I had dozed off just long enough to cause a crazy dream. Some minutes later, I heard my dad’s car pulling out of the driveway. Having no idea what time it was, I assumed that it was dawn and that he must have been unable to sleep and so was venturing down to Hospice early.  I lay there a few more minutes, wondering when my brother would wake up so that we too could venture down. After a few minutes passed, the telephone rang. I rushed downstairs to the kitchen, thinking it was my dad calling to ask me to bring something he had forgotten. As I answered the phone, I simultaneously looked at the oven clock and realized it was 2 am. I half- listened as the funeral home employee on the other end notified me that he was on his way and would be correlating with the organ donation site for pick up of the remains. Suddenly I realized what had happened. My mom had woken me up to let me know that she was leaving. The situation was too coincidental and the timing was too perfect for it to be otherwise.  I am so thankful that she did; otherwise the news would have been broken to me by a grumpy ,tired funeral home director. Apparently, my dad had received the call from Hospice on his cell phone and that was why he had left so early. But wow...that experience woke me up literally and spiritually...you can't come back the same from that.  I initially wanted to tell everyone...and even did tell a few people, but after getting a few blank “you be crazy” stares, I realized that perhaps that story should be one I kept to myself for a while. So I did...until now.
After that whole experience, I admittedly get very frustrated with people who fear death and postpone it with cruel life-saving measures that deprive quality of life.  I admit that I forget that a lot of people haven’t had experience with death to fully understand that it can be, if allowed, a very beautiful and peaceful process that is part of life.  I can’t fear it anymore; not after seeing, twice now, the eagerness and peace with which people cross over. Because of that, I’ve come to realize that the mini-crises of each day is nothing in comparison to the joy that awaits us after the curtain closes. In the meantime, I hope to live my life in a way that will get me a fast-pass to God’s amusement park when it’s all said and done...so far, everyone I’ve met who’s peeked through the gates has looked pretty excited about it. My new life plan is to keep it real, even when it gets embarassing and people judge you for it...because in the wise words of Liz Lemon ...Heaven: “I want to go to there”.

Where's Waldo? ...he's making inappropriate boob jokes on his Segway

Yea yea, so I haven’t written in a while...what’s my excuse? Oh, you know... I’ve been doing the usual: show-stopping, keeping it real, riding Segways through downtown Chicago with my nipples showing...Oh,hey, I have a good idea...let’s be socially inappropriate and elaborate on that last one!
So, last month I went to Chicago to visit my dear friend ‘Amy Freakin’ Gomez’, and we went on a Segway tour of downtown Chicago, just like all the cool kids do. I’m not going to lie, in the back of my head, I was hoping that my Segway would really be a Transformer and I would go down in history as the girl that tore down Chicago Godzilla style...you know, if Godzilla were to wear a helmet. The day of the tour, being it July, I left A-Gomez’s house wearing a perfectly thermally-appropriate tank top. However, when we got off the train downtown, we found that the temperature had dropped like Tupac. So we went in the nearest store where I bought a sweater that looked like a wannabe “Waldo” costume. I didn’t care; I was nice and warm, but apparently stripes accentuate certain “regions” more so than my original solid shirt, so suddenly Chicago was going to get to know me a lot better than it may have bargained for. The city may have been dark and cold that day, but I was lighting the way.
Anyway, the point is....I don’t really have one. But, I did learn several lessons from what I call the “experience of riding a Segway in a helmet with your nips showing”....everyone should do it at least once. It is quite enlightening. Here is what I learned:


Lesson 1: “Do not look behind you. Do not look too far ahead...or you will eat shit”. Segways are harder than they look, mind you. You have to stay present and always, always , always keep your head up and aware of what is going on in the moment. If you look too far ahead and over-anticipate obstacles ahead, you are likely to miss what’s going on in the present and eat it. No really, you will. Someone in our party did. I’m not going to lie, it was hilarious. But it also looked painful. Don’t worry too much about what obstacles could be ahead...if they’re there, they’re there...the best you can do is keep your balance right now so you’ll be ready to hit them if and when they do come.  And as far as looking behind you...do you want to die?


Lesson 2: “No matter how hard you try to speed things up, there is a speed limit”. Segways are capped out at 12mph;no matter what you do to try to go faster, 12 mph is it.  I lost control of Megatron during the tour. I got cocky and wanted to go faster...up a hill. I almost ate it because the harder I pushed forward, the more I felt held back, and my balance got all wack-a-doo and I almost went down. I’m like that. I want the slow, boring ,uphill parts of life to be over faster, but what’s the rush really? Things don’t move faster just because I want them to; and when I get resistance, I just get frustrated, so I might as well just go with the flow. It all happens in divine, perfect timing, so why do I feel the need for speed all the time? Next thing I know, I could be speeding uncontrollably down-hill, reminiscing for the days when 12 mph just wasn’t fast enough...


Lesson 3: “Big Names Don’t Mean Crap”. My Segway really was named “Megatron.” There was also a Pluto, Ringo, and Piglet in our "fleet".. And you know what? Although mine tried to scare the other Transformers with its big name, it still only went 12 mph just like the rest of them. That reminds me of the time a few weeks back when I saw a big-wig neurosurgeon eating an ice cream cone, on the swings, in the park. No one really cared , at that moment, who he was or what he did.  He was just another quirky guy eating a 49 cent McDonalds cone in the park with his golden retriever stalking him for crumbs. When it comes down to it, we are all just human, going through this human experience, no matter what our titles are.


Lesson 4: “Seriously, no one cares if your nipples are showing”...especially if they too are wearing a helmet. I was so conscious at first about people noticing this aspect of my, um, chilly situation. But, when it came down to it...they were also freezing, battling against the imbalances of their own Segway experience, trying to make it home before the storm, so they didn’t really give a damn. We spend so much time worrying about what other people may think...when in fact, we can’t stand to face that they really don’t care all that much. I mean really, even if people did notice, who do I think I am that they would remember even 10 minutes later? Most people are too busy worrying about themselves (and how stupid they look in a helmet). If they do, um “see through” you (if you will), if they notice too much it is just a reflection of their own insecurities, looking for weaknesses in other people to make themselves feel better. Have fun, nipples showing and all...because honestly, no one cares. And if they do, that’s their problem.


Lesson 5: “Sometimes, you just need a minute to laugh about this”...So, as I mentioned earlier, a member of our party went down...(and it was hilarious!!!) Amy and I were torn between needing to play the serious “ are you ok” card, while simultaneously feeling the need to bust our guts with laughter. So, we gave ourselves “one minute” to laugh about it non-stop while the victim was in the bathroom.  Thankfully, the fallen soldier found it hilarious too, so we got to extend our “minute” to about 4 days...but nevertheless, sometimes you just need to laugh. Even if it is just for a minute....it makes all the difference. I guarantee you’ll forget that your nips are showing and that you look pretty ridiculous in a helmet.


So thats what I learned...not bad for a 90 minute tour. All in all, it was a titillating experience; we all made boobs out of ourselves, and had the breast time.


Waldo out,
Sara

I'll Take "The Rapist" for 500 please

Today I did what every respectable girl does...I worked four hours and then went to see my therapist. My therapist is a little unconventional; her office furniture folds up and/or is inflatable, and I usually show up half naked to our appointments...but she’s damn good. Always so soothing, so enlightening. I hear her colleagues the Atlantic and the Pacific are pretty good too.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not sinking into a double D anytime soon (referring to both  “Deep depression”  and/or bra size) that would require me to attend regular therapy. On the self-reflection scale of happiness, I rank myself a solid 8.5 out of 10 right now....life is pretty good. I love where I live, I have a good job, I have great friends who keep it real, I’m financially stable... But, now I have the “almost perfect” syndrome (I admit, its pretty bratty...but we all do it). I liken it to how I felt in college when my friend Johnny and I were studying together at the library (translation: drinking Starbucks and judging people), and he told me I ranked a 7.75/10 on his scale. At first I liked this number, given that he had ranked a beach-blonde Tits McGee an 8 just moments prior. But then, I started wondering what it was that made me lose 2.25 points...was it that I had predominately A’s with a few B’s mixed in to keep it fun (referring to both my nerdy GPA and bra drawer)? Was it my Converses? My quirky sense of humor? My lack of a sorority- hood, or whatever the proper term is? ....why couldn’t things just be perfect???!
So it is with life. Everything is so almost perfect...yet, it’s not quite 100%, and its driving me crazy. I know everything is going well for me...and I shouldn’t complain, but I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m stuck at a 7.75 when everything has such good potential to become a perfect 10. This is what I’ve been reflecting about with my therapist, the Gulf of Mexico.
Today, I had a very enlightening session.  I sat in the patient chair ( a very awkward inflatable Papason seat that makes you feel like a real idiot when you find yourself beached, as it folds up on itself and makes your feet stick straight up in the air and you feel obese as you struggle against the waves to get your body up out of the sand in 3 different phases ....I mean, or so I’ve heard...)...ummm....back to the point. Ummm....oh yea, so as I was sitting there, I decided to lean all the way back until my ears were just barely under the surface of the water. As I lay there, bobbing along , I thought about how good life was, yet couldn’t help but throw out a few “why can’t I ____” questions (ex: “save more money”, “have more free time” “travel more”) to the universe. And with every up and down, slip slap of the waves against my ears, I got my answer loud and clear. I swear to you the waves were saying the most profound statement Ive heard in a while: “ You’re a dumbass...dumbass...dumbass.”
It’s right you know.  See, the thing I’ve been internally complaining about lately is this:  I’m kind of bored. Everything is changing for other people in my family, and I’d be lying if I said its not driving me freakin insane to be the only thing that seems to be staying the same.  I yearn for more adventure, for more opportunities to be creative. I want to travel and try new things. And what do I do about this?  I repeat my same boring routine over and over each day and then complain when the Universe doesn’t randomly grant my far-out wishes out of nowhere. Hence, the reason I’m a dumbass. If I want opportunities to create more, shouldn’t I frequently demonstrate to the universe that I can be creative? If I want more opportunities to see more places in the world, shouldn’t I demonstrate to Mr. God Universe Dude in Charge just how happy traveling makes me?  But nope, instead I keep my wishes to myself , my flyer miles low, and just hope for the best. Dumbass...dumbass...dumbass.
“Be the change you wish to see in the world”...how many times have I heard that and had no idea what it meant? I think I get it now.  One part faith plus one part action yields a whole lotta luck. You only get what you give....like attracts like...I get it. If I want the world to give me opportunities to be more creative, I need to start being more creative right now. If I want to meet people who are light-hearted and fun-loving, I need to make sure my own panties are wad-free. Case in point- the woman that lives behind me drives me nuts. She is always complaining that she can’t find a reliable, baggage-free, stable man. She tells me this as she "sexts" her ex-husband...  I mean, really? The whole opposites-attract thing is a crock of shit, both for people and opportunities in life. I’ve never had a relationship not work out because the other person and I were “too much alike.” I’ve never had an opportunity fall to me out of the sky because I’ve been caught doing nothing. Given that like attracts like, I realize I need to be more pro-active in doing and being what I want to attract.
So, until the travel channel contacts me and asks me to be the manager of creative smart-ass comments and/or office pranks on a new late-night travel show, I’ll keep making the best of what I’ve got. Rather than twiddle my thumbs and wish for adventure and novelty to come to me as a prize in my cereal box, I’ll shake what my momma gave me here and now. I’ll make my own creative outlet through more wacky cakes, pork-rind bouquets, and cupcake centerpieces. I’ll make more off-the-wall commentary and act a fool. I’ll travel more , wait around less, and do things that make me happy...get my diving certification, paddle board, swim with a dolphin...whats the worst that can happen, I find myself a beached whale in a Papason chair but a 9 on the “life is awesome” scale?  I'm in! As Nike says "JUST DO IT!"
Your 7.75,
              Sara

I see London, I see France...I'm oh so close to seeing my own underpants

I have a dream...not that one day my four children will grow up not to be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character (because if I contribute half of the genes that will form their character, they might be better off being judged by their skin)...but that one day I will successfully bend over backwards and see my own butt.

  Let me translate. One day I hope to successfully accomplish the Yogic backbend. Its so close I can smell it. Ok that came out wrong...but “so close to taste it” isn’t coming across much better. Anyway, to try and accomplish this goal, I’ve been going to Yoga classes. And while there, I’ve learned a few things.

One of the dudes that always puts his mat close to mine is a hardcore Yogi. I can tell because wears Tevas and has BO and a ponytail. So, one day I decided it would be fun to screw with him. Just to be a dickweed,I decided to run a social experiment. During a tree pose, I purposefully lost my balance to see if I could make him lose his too. And, hahahaha, it worked. So then I got myself back to midline, and he got back in balance....and then I’d get wobbly again...just to watch big tree come shockingly close to falling hard all because of this little weed. It was way too much fun. 

I realized I have a crap ton of power to have that kind of effect on people; but then again, everyone does. I myself have toppled over a few times after I’ve noticed someone else’s ankles getting a little shaky.  Our balances and imbalances are freaking contagious. But, when it comes down to it,  I can’t really do anything about the dude next to me’s balance, besides work on my own stability and hope to God it has a positive effect on him too. Such is life.  

The greatest gift we can give others is our healed whole self. It’s contagious.  The unhappy boss isn’t helping her employees’ productivity by being a whirling dervish of miserableness. Shit trickles downhill. Nope, the best thing she can do is help herself, find her own happiness, and watch what good things come of it. The co-dependent girlfriend isn’t going to make her relationship better by depending upon her boyfriend to make her happy; he’s probably going to disappoint her...not because he’s a d-bag, but because she’s an unstable little ragweed.  Bring ourselves up and other people are lifted up as well. Bring ourselves down, and the whole joint is infected. I’m going to try to not let other people bring me down; I’m not willing to give away that kind of power over my life. However, if the people around me’s lopsidedness makes it regularly difficult to keep my center of balance, I’ll do myself a favor and find a new studio. 

So, cheers to not giving away power to others to determine our happiness. Here’s to finding it for ourselves, and surrounding ourselves with others who keep us upright. Here’s to finding a studio that will bring us up and not tear us down. Cheers to taking care of ourselves....I think everyone around, including the man in Tevas, will appreciate it. 

Namaste or something like that,

                V-unit

Is that a mango in your pocket, or are you just LOST?

Hello friends....just in case anyone cares, I apologize that it’s been over a month since my last posting. I got LOST.  No really, I got LOST...through Netflix...and wow, just , wow. It started out as a simple time-killer on a lazy Monday evening. “I’ll just watch one episode to see what all the fuss was about,” I thought to myself. Well, holy shit. Now I know what it’s like to have an addiction....it’s been only a few weeks and I’ve watched 82 episodes....only 38 more to go now. I just can’t stop..The show reminds me a lot of my life...full of twists, turns, diverse characters, crazy coincidences and subplots...and 75% of the time I have no idea what the f*ck is going on, but it sure is entertaining to watch. 

For those of you who didn’t watch the show, LOST is about a group of people who survive a plane crash and find themselves stranded on a remote island. As the show progresses “in the present” after the crash, the viewers are shown flash-backs in the past, as well as flash-forwards ,of individual character’s lives. As the plot goes along, we discover that various characters are related to each other in various ways without them even knowing. The show basically consists of a main plot, with a bunch of mini-sub plots squeezed in that all come together in the end. Each episode usually ends with a cliff-hanger that makes you go “what the???!!!”, and in my case, stay up way too late to watch the next episode to find out how the plot unfolds. 

However, unlike the show, I can’t fast forward through the episodes of life or Wiki-pedia the things that aren’t quite meant for me to understand just yet. There’s no “spoiler” websites that tell me how one sub-plot of my life is related to another...I have to sit through life’s cliff hangers and sometimes wait until “after God’s messages” until it all starts to make more sense. More often than not,  it’s really freakin’ annoying.

Like LOST, I spend a lot of time dwelling in the past or in the future. Which is a shame, because if I took more time to appreciate my present, I might find that I’m surrounded by a tropical paradise filled with ripe mangos and half-dressed men with sexy 5:00 shadows because heeey-oohhh razors got lost in the plane crash ....scccccoooore!  (ok, leave me alone people, we’ve already established I like some scruff, ok?!) But nooo, screw the scruffy scenery, I’m always wanting to know “what happens next?” But, as soon as one story makes sense, I’m already on wanting to know about the next one. Oh, just like Oceanic Flight 816, I am such a wreck. 

I’m learning how to take it all in stride....to enjoy each story while I wait for it all to make sense. I’ll admit, sometimes the waiting really sucks. But, I have to remember that it all will unfold in perfect time. I look back on past “chapters” in my life, and they ended up making sense in the long run, so I might as well trust that the future ones will too. Not all of the sub-stories were easy to go through at the time, but I know that they all were necessary to the big-picture story of my LOST life. For example, last year I was caught up in the stress of trying to find someplace to live. I had driven by this duplex many times on my way coming and going to the grocery store, and had always thought it looked like a neat place to live. However, around the time I initially found the place, the lease for my current apartment wasn’t up for another 3 months. But one day, on a whim, I decided to call anyway. The woman didn’t answer, so I gave it another few weeks...drove by again, saw the sign was still up, and called again. Still no answer, so I left a voicemail. A few days later, I tried calling again, and a very confused-sounding older woman picked up. She started spitting off some story about how she ‘didn’t know if the place was for rent anymore, because the woman that rented it was still there, but wouldn’t be anymore, but she was in Nova Scotia she thought but wasn’t sure, and her daughter was moving to Connecticut and Ellen was outside in her bathingsuit... but I could I come by and look at it over the weekend?’....the conversation made absolutely no sense to me. I was confused...but so was she, in a nice 86-year-old woman kind of way,  so I figured the only way to get a clear grasp on the situation was to see it for myself. I went by, and lo and behold, the woman that was living there in the duplex had skipped town, gone MIA, and left all of her furniture (hence why the landlord was confused as to whether she should rent it out or not), but had finally made contact and agreed to be moved out in exactly...you guess it, two months...perrrrfect.  Two months later, I moved in. And all ya’ll who know me know how much I love my landlord Randy, so it all worked out. She even takes care of my dog for me during the day. But, at the time when i didn’t know what was going on, damn, the possibility of being left high and dry and homeless was confusing and stressful. But had I known then what I know now, I wouldn’t had worried none now brah. It was all pre-planned by some script writer with a knack for intricate stories. Once again, the sub-plots worked together to make sense for me. 

Not to get all bible-thumper on the situation, but one of the scriptures that sums it up for me best is this:”What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish?...If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give to those who ask!”....Yea, touche Jesus, touche. I ask for a roof over my head and you give me damn paradise, with dog care included. And there I was worrying about how that cliff-hanger was going to work out for me...I’m an idiot.  That God guy is a good story-teller, I’d join his circle time any day of the week.

So, yea...waiting sucks, but it happens, and all these sub-plots will work out once time passes. I just gotta remember that. Some days are easier than others. At the moment, I’m kind of sick of my current “plot” of working 8-5 at a job thats going to lead me to , well, um, yea, this exact same place in 15 years. But, again, that’s just a sub-plot of my life...I know I’ve gotta give it some time yet to  see what other inter-woven sub plot it leads me to next.  I’m not saying I’m going to spend my life waiting around for something to fall in my lap. When the time is right, inspiration will hit and I’ll take my cue from the director. But, in the meantime, I’m going to try to be more present in the present, let the current plot unfold, and not spend so much time flashing forwards or backwards. I mean, wow, look at all these mangoes!

      Fruity as always,

Sara

hold me closer tiny dancer

    Well friends, today marks the final day of my 40-day run devoted to an attitude of gratitude. I have to admit, I ventured off into the dirty world of complaining on more than one occasion, because, hey , life happens....but I try to make a conscious effort to get back to this grateful place as much as possible, so here I am.  I thought about making another final list filled of things I love as the "grand gratitude finale". However, as I sat down to write it out in my usual fashion, my mind ventured to what tomorrow marks for me. Tomorrow marks the anniversary of when I got the call that initiated my growing up process....and this brought my mind to what I am most grateful for...and that is you people. Not to downplay the value that red cherry slurpees have had in my life, as they have brought me to a happy place on more than one occasion, but, the amount of gratitude I feel for the people in my life is far too significant to sandwich between slurpees and sangrias. Therefore, I dedicate this blog to the thing I am most grateful for: to you, my friends. Even if we don't know each other that well, you found me somehow, so don't deny that we have some sort of connection. And if you don't roll your eyes at my writing, because this is pretty much me laid out there, I'd like to get to know you better, so go ahead and consider yourself a friend.
    I'd venture to say that very few people can identify the exact place and time that they grew up, or maybe it hasn't happened for them yet. I am far from being a "grown up", but I can tell you that the jolt that initiated the process for me happened on April 3, 2009 at about 3pm, and Dan Fogelberg "Longer" was playing in the background.
    As many of you know, April 1 was the day that my mom had a golf-ball sized aneurysm rupture (side note: aneurysm...why is it that something that has had such an impact on my life is still so damn hard to spell?) I'm not proud of it, but , after it happened,it took me an entire two days to get over myself and venture in to see her face to face. Up to that point, I could only make it to the outside of her hospital room. I was terrified of seeing the little whirling dervish of random fun energy I knew and loved in a vulnerable state. I was worried about myself and my memories of her.  But, like I said, I eventually got over myself and ventured in to see her for the first time on April 3.
    Around 3:00 in the afternoon, the music therapist and massage therapist came in to see us. The music therapist asked my dad what their wedding song was, and he told her Fogelberg "Longer". The music therapist began to play it and whoop there it was, my growing pains were initiated. That was the best and worst 3 minutes of my life. During the song, my dad ventured over to stand by me at my mom's bedside. We just kind of stared at my mom for a minute, in disbelief that we were there, in this place,  when suddenly my dad pulled me close by my shoulders, and for the first time in my 23 years, I saw my dad choke back tears. The way he hugged me was different than any other hug I'd ever experienced. Up to that point, all I knew was the semi-awkward, butt out kind that seemed to say "heeey we're dropping you off at college now and we're supposed to hug now but we know we'll see you again in five days because that roommate of yours looked realllly weird." Nope, this was different. It said "we're a team now." In that moment, I realized that there was more to the world than me....I was kicked out of my self-absorbed bubble and realized that there is more to people and situations than how they treat me and how they affect me.
     So, as cheesy as it is, from that moment I started to learn to love people. Sure, there are some real dicks that are introduced to me in my life. Like the crazy patient's grandmother who made it her business to be a total unbeliveable a-hole on a daily basis this week, or the bitchy PICU resident who talked to me like therapy was the taint of the hospital . But when it comes to it, I have to admit that those dickweeds have been fertilized by crappy experiences of their own; they just cope differently. Shit can make the best fertilizer or make you just reak...depends on what kind of plant you want to be. I don't necessarily love my interactions with these people; but I'm slowly learning to see them as experiences who make me appreciate the people that really matter in my life. Which means you.
    I've learned the value of true interactions and friendships. I love when people are just themselves and aren't afraid to pull you in close in a sign of mutual "needage." Ohhh friends, who know a shoulder squeeze could teach me so much. I'm here for you, but I know you're here for me too if I need you. That's what hugs are about....two people in a mutual "what up"ness, venturing on this life thing together. Its ok, you don't have to hug me, I 'll still know you love me, and I love you too!
Thank you for being a friend (or considering becoming one),
Sara