Withholding the Truth

Recently one of my oldest, dearest, and most awesome-est friends, Sara, and her equally awesome hubby, Shaun, came and visited us here in the desert. I was thrilled since Sara hasn't been back to AZ in like, forever, and this was Shaun's first trip to see real, live cacti and scorpions.

Upon her arrival I did my very, very best not to tackle her at the airport with my over-enthusiastic hug. I actually positioned myself closer to the entrance so that I wouldn't run across the waiting area like a crazy person and get tasered by airport security. I am happy to report that no tasering took place.

We did the usual grown up things like hiking, hula hooping in my backyard, and buying special accessories for our night out on the town, in our hometown. The outfits consisted of funny hats, giant sunglasses and bangles. We even got accessories for the boys as well- more funny hats, unusual watches, and musical instruments. We didn't want them to feel left out, obviously, since we were looking so incredibly fantastic in our leopard/cowboy hat and glitter sunglasses ensembles.  We kept the sunglasses on all evening and I quietly hummed the "I wear my sunglasses at night" song in my head while I wondered if anyone recognized me and secretly hoped they didn't. You see, I have to go back home fairly often since my family lives there still and I was really counting on my outfit to throw off anyone and everyone who might recognize me.

We danced with a bunch of drunk strangers at what turned out to be a gay bar while the boys played their harmonicas and kazoos. We then went to Wal-Mart where we entertained ourselves with their never ending supply of hula hoops and bicycles. I remember all of this because I was sober. I'm a good old fashioned water drinker which my friends love because I can always drive and I still act like a fool just for fun. I also remember all of this because I took pictures of them riding around Wal-Mart on bikes and attempting to play baseball in the back of the store.

Anyway, we had an awesome time hanging out that night and the next day we took a little trip to the Grand Canyon to "ooo" and "ahh" and it's grandness. It really is something to be seen and I do recommend checking it out if you've never been. I had forgotten just how pretty and breathtaking it really is. My favorite part of this entire event, though, was the dinner that night before where we all got together with my mom and gramma and our other incredibly wonderful friend, Becky, and her husband.


Back in high school Becky, Sara and I were our own little Three Musketeer trio. In our agriculture class at school we would all sit together and our teacher, Mr. Stevens, would refer to our table as the "Midget Table" since we are all very short. It was a term of endearment.

We were all so different and yet so alike. For example, I lived in my own little bubble of a world where I owned one CD, 101 Dalmatians (I kid you not), and that was enough for me because I had just broken free of the world of country music and tapes. Becky was still solidly in country music land and Sara was a rock and roller. She introduced us to various bands and singers, including Nine Inch Nails, which terrified Becky since I'm pretty sure she thought it was satanic music of some kind. I'm pretty sure she still does, actually.

The three of us all drove some kind of awesome off-roading vehicle and we all had names for them. Each day at lunch we would decide which one to take and head off to Wendy's for the usual. Becky had the coolest, oldest, most awesome jeep ever, which we named Earl. Sara and I were the giant SUV girls, so we always had mud bogging adventures going on somewhere. We had fun, the three of us, and we hadn't been together since Sara up and graduated and moved to the cold country. This night was special because we were finally all together again.

We told stories about the things we used to do and the things we've done since. All the guys got to meet each other and bond over, you know, manly things. The night was good, but the night got even better when Becky confessed to my mom that I had been sky diving and my mom, well, she had no idea of this wild thing which I had done. Let me start at the very beginning...

Last August Shaun, being the awesome husband that he is, wanted to surprise Sara with a visit from me and on that visit we were all going to go sky diving as well. I had actually never planned on jumping out of a plane. It was not on my bucket list at all, but if Sara was going, then I was going and that was that. For two months I silently pondered why I had gone insane and decided to jump out of a plane. I also mentally tried t prep myself for the jump. I did not at any time tell my mother this plan. I figured it was better to tell her once I was back home and alive rather than before the fact. Plus, I'm an adult. I don't have to tell my mother. That was my don't-feel-bad-about-not-telling-her thought anyway.

We get to good old Wisco and I find out Sara wasn't planning on jumping at all, but she thought the same thing I did - if she goes, I go - so we both ended up jumping. You get video's of your jump which you then get to watch right afterwards. Shaun is practically a professional jumper so he was doing all these awesome flips and tricks while Justin pretty much passed out right up there in the sky. Sara, hands down, had the best video ever because she was hilarious in it. Like, I could start laughing so hard I could cry right now if I start thinking about it. I can't tell you anything further or I may not live to see the light of day. I, however, had the most boring video of them all. I really did.

The entire night before I was super nervous and couldn't sleep. Not a wink. Then, somehow, I found that calm place that I had so fervently practiced in my mind and I ended up just stepping right out into the air. It was like I had been living a double life as a secret Black Ops sky diver or something. I didn't scream once, I did everything perfect (which is BORING), I did a flip, got to man the strings for a bit, and I even had an entire conversation with my jump partner about his career and the sky diving business. So, while I had an amazing time and a great jump, and while I'm certain that in some past life I must have been a bird,  I had the most yawn worthy video ever. At least I picked out cool music for the background sounds.

Back to the day of the dinner...

In the car, on the way to our hometown, Sara asks me if I've shown my mom the jump video. We had originally come up this whole plan where I would have her watch it without her even knowing what it was. That would be how I told her I jumped out of a plane. I kept waiting and waiting and waiting for my mom to come to my house so I could set this all up for her.  I waited so long that when Sara asked me if she'd seen it, I honestly couldn't remember if she had or if I had just imagined that I had shown her. Justin even told her he was pretty sure I had told her, at least, so I went with that.

Turns out we were all wrong.

Becky somehow mentions the sky diving and as the words come out of her mouth my moms jaw drops open in shock. Whoopsie. I remember this all happening in slow motion. My mom turning to look at me with that intense mom look - mouth wide open, glossy stare of fear and death - while Becky realizes what just happened and literally ducks to hide behind her husband's shoulder. Sara and everyone else starts busting up while we all sit there and I have to spill the beans.

Poor Beck. This is not the first time she's accidentally ratted me out to my mom. The first time was at my wedding reception when she gave the toast and informed everyone of the adventure we once took to Flagstaff where we got stuck in a blizzard. This, my mom did not know either, since I was never allowed to leave town, but did anyway on more than one occasion. At that time I got the intense, yet kind and loving mom look, while Becky tried to hide behind the microphone after the confession. All my guests started laughing at realizing I had just gotten busted 5 years too late, by my BFF, at my wedding.

So poor, poor Becky was probably reliving that moment right then and there. She was trying to apologize, swearing she would never talk again, ever, while my mom questioned this sky diving trip and I explained everything to her. She wasn't mad though, I mean, I am still alive and you can't argue with that! I wasn't mad either, not this time or the last. How can you be mad at something so hilarious like that? The look of sheer agony combined with panic on Becky's face at ratting me out was just too much. I laughed so hard I cried for a good 15 minutes at least. My mom laughed it all off too, but at the end of the night she turned to look at Becky with a dead serious look and told her she could call her anytime with information on me. In fact, to this day when my mom calls me she asks what I've been up to and then quietly adds "I'll double check with Becky when I run into her in town."

Moral of the Story - Friends are an important part of your life. They will be with you through the good and bad and hopefully a lot of the hilarious as well. However, with that being said,  they will have a lot of dirt on you so you should always remember to either tell your mom everything first or at least prep your friends on what not to mention to her. Unless of course you want to laugh your behind off. Then just go for it.

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Adair AC

I'm sort of a walking advertisement for anyone who I think is awesome and deserves credit for being prior mentioned awesome. In saying that, I would just like to give a little shout out to Joe at Adair AC.

If, by chance, you live in AZ and need an experienced AC person to come help you out in the 118 degrees that we experienced this week, Joe is your guy. My family and I have been using him for several years and we are always beyond happy. He was just out here the other day making sure we would survive the scorching summer and it was really like catching up with an old friend. He's just so dang nice! He told me stories about his wife and work and as he went around checking everything out he gave me all kinds of household tips about keeping the house cooler and how pleated filters are better than other ones and what not. Seriously, he's just so dang nice!

So there you have it. Short, quick, to the point. You can reach him at:

Adair Air Conditioning Co 

3812 East Miami Avenue, Phoenix, AZ 85040-1635(602) 437-0363 ‎

Acceptance is an Option

I would call myself creative. A dreamer. A right brainer, if you will. Visual things like pictures make me happier than new pairs of shoes, so I'm often caught up in an imaginary world in my head. I have a very good life and yet I wish things out of this world that don't exist and I wonder why. I wonder why we all do.

We love superheroes, pirates, vampires and ghosts. We are fascinated with these things. We write books about them, make movies, devote our lives to studying them and trying to prove that they're real and I wonder why that is. We're not bored. None of us ever really has time to be that bored. I think that, in the big scheme of things, we believe there really is more our there. We want there to be more out there. We want the fairy tales and the ghosts stories to be true.

Part of it may be that our own lives aren't going as planned. Turning to fiction, to something beautiful or more exciting, is always easier. Always more fun. A way of escape, you might even say, depending on your situation. Or maybe it's just that, given the chance, we would accept a new world with hobbits, aliens, and what have you. It would be a fascinating place to live, no matter how dangerous at times, and I'm betting that most of us would give it a try, just to see, to feel, the difference.

The more I think about it though, the stranger I find it is that we would accept all of these things, these unknown and sometimes terrifying ideas, yet we still don't accept the things we have now that are real. We judge people on the color of their skin,  their sexual preference, their background, belief system and even mundane things like the shoes they wear and the cars they drive. We see people only with our eyes instead of feeling them with our hearts. We base everything on a thought before we move on to get to know them better. We refuse to accept what should be acceptable.

My proposal is this: Next time you meet someone, give them a chance to exist just as they are. They're real, live, right in front of your eyes reality. Whoever they are and whatever they offer to the world, believe that it's important to them. You yourself don't necessarily have to believe what they do, you just have to believe that they believe it and that it's important to them. Then let it be. Let them be. Live and let them do the same.

Acceptance is an option. A good one, a peaceful one, but an option none the less. We all deserve a chance to be accepted just as we are. Only in love and light can we grow and blossom.

What do you wish more people accepted about you?
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The Kindness Chronicles - Everything Essential

As you all know I fell down the stairs a little while back. Hilarious, I know. Well that's not the only way I can amazingly injure myself. Nope! I was cleaning my house and moving paint cans into the garage, doing a very successful job might I add, until I wasn't which would be when I dropped a full can of paint on top of my sandal clad foot. I thought I was genuinely a-okay. I had a cut and it hurt a little, but I was able to walk on it the rest of the day without any real issues. 

Then the evening came and all hell broke loose with my foot.

It swelled up to the size of a small watermelon while turning various shades of the ocean. I was already in bed asleep when I realized I was far worse off than originally thought. The sheet that was touching my foot was equivalent to someone parking their car right on top of it. I couldn't move it, not a single toe, without wanting to scream. I was honestly surprised by all of this since I was fine and dandy earlier in the day.

I attempted to get up and fix myself with some essential oils, however, walking like a normal person was now not an option. First, I tumbled out of bed onto my knees. Then, I dragged myself to the living room to grab an aromatherapy book so I could double check dosages on oils. I resembled that of a cowboy from a western who had just been shot in the leg. Also, dragging myself along the carpet, inch by inch, did not help as I added rug burn to my list of wounds. Once in the living room it occurred to me that I had made a poor choice as I had to drag myself all the way back to the the bathroom to get the oils. There I literally laid on my bathroom floor crying like a fool while I started to dose myself with a blend of essential oils. I was certain I was never going to walk again, that I should just die there and be done with it all. Dramatic, I know. 

Cut to 36 hours later and I'm better. WAY better, like healed by angels or magical fairy dust and leprechauns kind of better. So much better that I didn't think anyone would believe that I couldn't walk the day prior. No swelling at all, a tiny cut from the original damage and a bruise so faint that it practically wasn't even there. I go into work after having worked from home the day after The Incident since I didn't want to put a shoe on it. I just wanted it healed up ASAP. None of my coworkers are in the office that day so the only person I see is the manager from downstairs. I'm sitting at my desk, so he can't see my foot, and he's telling me how awful my injury sounded (which it was) and how he hopes I can walk like a normal person one day soon (which I can). I realize, with a small amount of panic, that no one is going to believe just how banged up I was. Here I am walking normally like nothing happened. I went from "I think my foot needs to be amputated" kind of pain to "I think I'll go for a jog, and jump rope, and hopscotch!"

 How was I going to get them to believe me? I needed a middle ground and I decided that pretending was it. So...I decided to limp. Had my coworkers been there I wouldn't have. They know me and my holistic ways. But they weren't and I didn't want, or have time, to explain my miracle to everyone else who does not understand my holistic ideas, so I just limped. I gave up after about two hours and went home since I looked and felt like an idiot. I did, however, limp on the way out to seal the deal. True story ladies and gentlemen, true story.

And now to the point.

A very safe and very effective way to treat yourself is with essential oils, or Aromatherapy. Essential oils are simply and utterly amazing. I swear by them for absolutely everything. Bruises, pain, digestion, detox, relaxation, energy, you name it. Just a few drops can alter your well being in a matter of moments. For example, the health benefits of one drop of peppermint oil are equivalent to having had 500 cups of peppermint tea. You could never drink that much tea in a day to gain that much of it's amazingness.

Let's start with the basics. Essential oils stimulate and support the body's own natural healing capabilities. They treat the cause of the issue, not the symptoms. They can be used for emotional and mental healing, physical healing, and energy healing. Essential oils, or EO's, are derived from plant sources and the very best ones are all natural with no synthetic compounds.

EO's will vary in strength, smell, and overall effectiveness based on their place of origin and on the method of extraction used to get the oil from the plants. Regardless, as long as they are all natural, they will work. Every EO is different in what it is capable of doing. Some relieve pain, some calm the system, some heal injuries, and some help the respiratory system. Each one has it's own unique properties and those should always be considered when selecting your EO.

There are certain safety precautions to take into consideration as well, which is why I strongly suggest going to a certified Aromatherapist for any EO use. They can help to get blends made for you and your specific concerns. Essential oils are very, very powerful and most people don't realize just how effective they are. One drop can change everything.

Some things to keep in mind:

Your skin is the largest organ on your body and since most methods of EO use involve skin contact, you should understand all the systems they will touch. They will go to your heart, blood stream, muscle tissue, joints, and internal organs. This is why going natural is important. Anything you put on your skin, chemically made or natural, will hit these same paths in your body. (See blog: Skin Health - What you need to know NOW).

How many drops you use is important and again, this is why I suggest talking to someone who specializes in this. Just a few drops is enough to make a HUGE difference.

Essential oils should be kept in a cool, dark place. They will go bad if they are in direct sunlight and most of them have a shelf life of six months. This is another reason to go to an aromatherapist. They have cupboards full of oils ready for blending. When you buy your own bottles it can be difficult to use up everything before they go bad. This way you never have to even think about it.

Always test an essential oil on your skin before use to ensure you don't have a reaction to it. Your aromatherapist should do this for you. Most will be fine, but certain ones are very strong. Lavender, for example, is the safest EO there is which is why it's used in so many spa products. There are no negatives effects to it, while there are with others.

EO's should never be used "clean" which basically means never placed straight on the body without water or a fatty substance to absorb them. You have to have had plenty of experience with EO's before you even attempt that. Trust me. I once had an aromatherapy massage and the girl doing it was not well versed in the use of essential oils. Why she was even permitted to use them is beyond me. She literally sprinkled dozens of drops, clean, right on to my back, causing me to become very, very ill for two days straight. This is not what should happen when the procedures are followed correctly.

Citrus EO's are phototoxic. This means that for 24 hours after use you cannot go hang out in the sun as they can burn your skin. This doesn't mean you should avoid them, as they are some of the most important essential oils. It just means you have to be careful. Certain citrus ones do no fall into this toxicity profile, but overall caution with the sun is recommended.

Certain EO's, like Clary Sage, cannot be used with alcohol. This one oil will make you drunker than a skunk if you even just have one glass of wine while using it.

Most importantly remember that all EO's can have strong effects on the body, so you must make sure to check what the precautions are for each oil before use. Certain ones cannot be used with medication as they will throw if off completely and/or make you ill. The oil itself is safe on it's own, but when mixed with medication it is highly unsafe. Again, lavender is by far the safest EO for everyone, so if you want to try something, start there.

My gramma fell a couple years back and bruised her face. Her arms were hurting her and she was just plain achy everywhere. I got her a bottle of lavender oil, tested it on her, and had her use it daily. Her bruise healed up quickly and her pain was gone completely. She was so relieved to have the pain gone and I was so thrilled to have her feel better. Now she uses it anytime she hurts and no longer needs an over the counter pain reliever.

On that note, a quick story on lavender oil.

It was the first essential oil discovered. A perfume maker was making a new blend using some lavender essential oil and accidentally severely burned his entire hand. Imagine the very worst burn you could and that is how bad it was for him. He went to dip his hand in a vat of water, but instead dipped it in the EO container. A week later his burns were healed - completely. No scars, no signs of a burn at all. His hand was like new. This is the power of essential oils.

Essential oils are truly amazing. Yes, caution should be used with them, but caution should really be used with everything involving your body. Medications have far more dangerous side effects than any essential oil ever could. You just have to know the details and as long as you go to someone who knows what they're doing you won't need to worry about anything. The healing benefits far and wide outweigh the precautions. Plus, they're all natural which is the kindest possible thing you can use on and for your body. Trust me when I say you'll fall in love with them quickly. There's nothing better than something that smells like heaven and makes you feel like you just had a spa treatment.

If you want in-depth information on aromatherapy, I recommend the Aromatherapy for Bodyworkers book by Jade Shutes and Christina Weaver. You don't have to be a bodyworker to get a great deal of information from this amazing book.

Enjoy playing around with essential oils! I'm here if you have any questions.
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Stuff My Mom's Done Recently

I love my mom to death, but sometimes I just have to shake my head. Here are some recent funny encounters with her.


Two weeks ago my mom called to tell me she would be coming to the valley to get her car worked on and wondered if she could borrow mine during that time to go shopping. We had everything worked out. She would call me at work, I'd go pick her and grams up and they'd drop be back at the office so they could shop. Piece of cake.

The day of the car switch-a-roo was crazy. Mom was calling me all morning telling me she might not make it, she was on her way, no she wasn't, yes she was, etc. Finally I get the call from my mom at about 1:30 PM that she's at the car shop and I can leave to meet her. I take my lunch break then to make this happen, which means I leave my office, but have both my personal and work cell phones with me.

I get to the car shop to see my mom outside waving at me and I pull over.

Me: Hey, are you ready?
Mom: Oh, they already looked at it and we're good. We don't need to do anything.
Me: OK. So...great. I'll, uh, just go back then...
Mom: I tried calling you at the office to tell you.
Me: I left the office to come here as soon as you called me.
Mom: Yeah, I know, but I tried to catch you at your office.
Me: Mom, I have two cell phones.
Mom: I know, but you're working from the office today.
Me: *Placing my hand on my head and closing my eyes* Yes mom, I am. I am.


Last week, call from my mom at work, trying to tell me a story while I'm sitting 4 feet away from my boss.

Mom: Hi, are you busy? I have to tell you about the mouse!
Me: What? What mouse? *Whispering as I look at my boss* What are you talking about?
Mom: The mouse at gramma's! I know you like mice because you had that little orange one when you were a kid...what was it's name again? Oh, Peaches. Such a tragic death, poor little Peaches. Anyway, this was not Peaches and I had to get rid of this one so...
Me: Mother. I. Am. At. Work. I cannot talk to you about a mouse right now.
Mom: Oh, you never have time to talk!
Me: Fine. Is it just about the mouse?
Mom: No, I have more than just the mouse story. Hmph! (Seriously, she hmph'd me)
Me: MOM! I have to go. Tell me this weekend.
Mom: What if I forget? I'm always wanting to tell you things, but then I can't remember everything so that's why I always call to try and tell you, but you're always at work and...
Me: Please. Write it down. Then tell me.
Mom: I do write them down but then I forget where I put the lists so they're no help at all, so I call you instead.
Me: *Sigh* Mom, I will write it down for you. I'll see you this weekend.
Mom: Fine. I just thought you should know while I could remember it. Whatever, goodbye.

Got a mom story?


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Have Some Class

I saw this in an email I got today and found it inspirational in an idea sense. In this I think of the term World Class not as a better class of people or even a label, but as a different perspective on life itself. A new way to view things. A more open minded, heart centered, and positive approach to the world and the way we approach it. I enjoyed all of the comparisons below, but number four is by far my favorite: To be comfortable being uncomfortable. Now doesn't that sound nice?


1. The Middle Class competes…the World Class creates.

2. The Middle Class avoids risk…the World Class manages risk.

3. The Middle Class lives in delusion…the World Class lives in objective reality.

4. The Middle Class loves to be comfortable…the World Class is comfortable being uncomfortable.

5. The Middle Class has a lottery mentality…the World Class has an abundance mentality.

6. The Middle Class hungers for security…the World Class doesn’t believe that security exists.

7. The Middle Class sacrifices growth for safety…the World Class sacrifices safety for growth.

8. The Middle Class operates out of fear and scarcity…the World Class operates from love and abundance.

9. The Middle Class focuses on having…the World Class focuses on being.

10. The Middle Class sees themselves as victims…the World Class sees themselves as responsible.

11. The Middle Class slows down…the World Class clams down.

12. The Middle Class is frustrated…the World Class is grateful.

13. The Middle Class has pipedreams…the World Class has vision.

14. The Middle Class is ego-driven…the World Class is spirit driven.

15. The Middle Class is problem oriented…the World Class is solution oriented.

16. The Middle Class thinks they know enough…the World Class is eager to learn.

17. The Middle Class chooses fear…the World Class chooses growth.

18. The Middle Class is boastful…the World Class is humble.

19. The Middle Class trades time for money…the World Class trades ideas for money.

20. The Middle Class denies their intuition…the World Class embraces their intuition.

21. The Middle Class seeks riches…the World Class seeks wealth.

22. The Middle Class believes their vision only when they see it…the World Class knows they will see their vision when they believe it.

23. The Middle Class coaches through logic…the World Class coaches through emotion.

24. The Middle Class speaks the language of fear…the World Class speaks the language of love.

25. The Middle Class believes problem solving stems from knowledge…the World Class believes problem solving stems from will.


--Steve Siebold (177 Mental Toughness Secrets Of The World Class)


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Ultimate Dog Tease

Hi everyone,

Sorry for all the tears from the other post. I appreciate all your kind words and thoughts!

Here's something a little lighter and adorable. I had to go hug my dog after this and give him a treat.

The Story of my Father and the Greatest Gift he Gave Me

I should be in bed right now, dreaming away, but this is one of those moments where the words wont leave my mind until I get them out. Fathers Day is coming and it's time to tell my dad's story.

Mom and Dad on their wedding day.

As you all know, or kind of know, my dad passed away when I was a little girl. I don't have a lot of firsthand memories of him. My mom has told me stories over the years that I cherish as they're all I really have as a way of knowing who he was. What I do know is beautiful and I hold onto them like a rope that is holding me up, preventing my fall into the void of forgotten sentiments. I repeat the memories over and over to myself to make sure I don't forget them. To make sure I don't forget him.

Me, my dad and my grandpa. I'm pretty sure I'm thinking
"What are you saying?" since my grandpa had a strong
Croatian accent.

It may sound like I'm boasting, but I'm not. It may also sound like he had some super cool, fancy life, but it was just a happy, simple one. There was nothing extravagant to our life together as a family. I'm simply proud of who he was. That he was a good man with a good heart and a good head on his shoulders. I'm proud that he got to do something he loved in his life and that he got to live his dream as much as he could.  I'm proud of how people respected him for his honesty and his ethics, how they looked up to him, and how he stood up for what he thought was right. Truthfully, I'm also jealous that they got a version of him I was never able to experience.

Friends of the family would tell me about my dad as I was growing up. My moms friend, Jacquie Lynn, who is a spitfire and someone I've always looked up to for her independence and passion for life, always had the best stories - of everything. You would not believe the fantastical things she's done in her life, but I know plenty of witnesses to her adventures. She knew my mom and dad when they were younger and the thing she would always, always tell me is that I should be proud of the man he was. She would tell me was how tall and strong my dad appeared to everyone because he walked with confidence and conviction.

Some guy, my dad, some guy - In France

My dad never went to college. I'm sure my grandfather would have appreciated it, but my dad didn't see the need. In his spare time he worked on cars and all things guy like and taught himself how it all worked. How engines should run and things should tick. He could fix anything mechanical: Cars, helicopters, trains - you name it. This got him his job as the head engineer at work. He had the coolest job ever, in my mind. He got to fly all over the world - Japan, Italy, France, Germany -  to fix engines for everything and everyone. I think that's where I get my travel bug from, which secretly pleases me to no end. It's hard knowing what qualities you have from someone without having been able to really know them, and to know I've been where he once went and have seen what he once saw makes me feel closer to him. I recently found his old pictures from his trips to France and on the back he wrote descriptions of everything, just as I do now when I load a picture online. Getting that glimpse of his personality through them made me realize how similar we are in that sense. It was if I had written on them myself, with the funny captions and quirky comments.

I love this one. See his reflection in the window? On the
back he wrote "I was told I had to stay aware from these."
Ah, dessert! I always take pictures of food too. Just like him I guess.

He used to work on race cars and then drive them around the race track after he'd fixed them to make sure everything was working correctly. I used to stare at a plaque that hung on his hospital wall that was signed by all the race car drivers and engineers. I always wondered if he would have taken me with him around the track, if I would have gotten to hang out with the cool race car drivers. To a five year old those are the dreams of gold and silver - where your dad is the hero that can do anything and take you on cool adventures like that.

 I like the fact that none of us are posing.
That we're just living in this moment.

My mom thinks I look more like him than her, even now. Everyone else says I'm the spitting image of her, but then again they haven't seen my dad.  I honestly don't know how I got all of their features except for the dark hair that I so long to have without the use of a bottle of dye.

Of all the qualities my mom says I have of him, I don't think his brilliance is one of them. Not in the way he worked, the way he could figure out all the problems no one else could answer. She says I have it, that I fix things without realizing it. She says when I was a toddler I would break apart his radios and odd things in the house (that really shouldn't have been broken) and then put them back together. This I don't recall. I'm certain I was a perfect little angel...OK, maybe I remember a few times...

Anyway, I do think I have his silence, though. I think better when I can walk away and come back. I think better when I'm alone. When he had a tough situation he would go to his office, shut the door and think, think, think. No one would bother him because they knew this was his process. Later he would emerge with a plan that solved everything.

My mom tells me that had he lived he would have built me my first car. I'm certain it would have been pretty badass. I think I get that quality from him, the car loving part. People who don't know me always assume I'm a girlie sports car kind of a person, but I'm not in the least. I like trucks and SUV's, things with torque and power and some serious height to them. I like rims and grills and leather. I like driving fast on the open roads with my radio blaring. I like getting my hands dirty polishing the steel and conditioning the leather. I can't tell you a thing about the engine but I can clean a car like it's no ones business.

While I have never had a horrible time dealing with his death, being that in many ways we never bonded like a father and daughter would had they had more time, more years together, I still have my moments where it hits me that I have missed out on experiences that can never be replaced by anyone or anything.  I will never have the chance to have my dad scare away a boyfriend, teach me how to drive, or even dance with me at my wedding. My children will never know their grandfather and I, unfortunately, will have limited stories to tell them about him.

A few months ago I had a dream about him. You see, I dream a lot. In fact I would say I'm an advanced dreamer in any and all things having to do with dreaming, so while I've had many a dream that felt real I've never had one that was this intense. This jarring and dramatic.

I was with my mom and my dad hanging out in the desert as if it was a beach by the cooling waters of the ocean. It was an odd, out of place scene, but we were all happy hanging out together. I was reclining on the sand and my dad was next to me talking while my mom was a little further out in her own space.  This next part is what kills me.

My dad and I are talking when all of a sudden he grabs my face and looks at me in the saddest, most heart wrenching way ever. He's searching my eyes, my entire face, and emotionally he is breaking down as he starts to say, "How did you get so old? I don't understand. You're supposed to be a little girl! I don't understand what's happened! What...what have I missed? When did you grow up?"

This painful dialogue goes on for what seems like an eternity and right when I think he grasps the situation he snaps back into his former self, just talking to me on the desert beach. I swear with everything in me I talked to my father, somehow, someway, that night. In that moment in my dream, in everything I could feel and sense and grasp, it was as if my dream version of him was replaced with my real living, breathing father. Like he had briefly broken through the barriers of all time and space and was having an actual conversation with me. A conversation in which he hadn't realized yet that he was no longer here, that time had passed and I had grown up without him, and the moment that he did he had to go back to wherever he had come from.

When I was fourteen I was in my bedroom going through old family videos. I found one of me and my dad and for the first time in my life, in my adult memory at least, I heard him speak. It took my breath away, made me dizzy, to hear in a video what I never would again in real life. I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote my very first poem, for him, the one that started it all. I submitted it in competition after competition and won all of them, eventually getting it published internationally. I think my mom is the only one who ever knew that until this very moment.

After that I started writing poem after poem after poem until I had dozens of them piling up around me. I knew then that I wanted to be a writer, I just never did anything about it until recently. Poetry...it's so personal. I felt like if I shared it with anyone they would see into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul. They would wonder who I really was, with all these thoughts and ideas I've never shared.  And this, all of this - my poems and the book I'm working on and even this blog - all comes down to the moment I heard my dad speak. It all comes back to him. It was the cannon ball that broke through my silence, that placed pen to paper, that gave me courage and showed me what I was capable of doing. He made me realize that the one thing I wanted to do more than anything in this life, is write. This is his greatest gift to me.

Although he has left me, he still speaks to me in times when I need him the most. Last year in school we were doing an energy class where you lie down and a few people stand around you, place their hands on your shoulders, head, legs, and restore your energy, so to speak. Energy work is really not my thing, so I thought this was going to be bogus and completely unhelpful. I even apologized to everyone beforehand, stating that this probably wouldn't work on me. My friends, Josh and Sergio, were on my left and right sides, hands on my shoulders and hips. Someone was cradling my head while another person held my ankles. For about 10 minutes or so we all just closed our eyes and all the people around me focused on healing whatever it was that needed to be healed. After a few minutes, to my own surprise, I felt something. I suddenly had this sense of being rocked.

No one was actually moving me at all but for the entire duration thereafter I genuinely felt all of this love and comfort and this endless sense of being rocked like a baby in someones arms. After class Josh approached me and told me he had a message for me. He said that he heard a man's voice, someone that he sensed as a father type figure, tell him to tell me, "It's OK. Everything's OK." Josh and I didn't know each other that well yet, so when I told him my dad was dead he was surprised, but believed even more so that it had been my dad. This message, coincidentally, came at a time when my life was a bit crazy and I had a decision I needed to make and I really didn't feel like anything was OK at all.

Sergio came down the hall and the two of them proceeded to tell me how the whole time, although again no one was moving, it felt like they were rocking me. I, having not told a soul that I had in fact felt like I was indeed being held and rocked, informed them that I had the same weird sensation. In the end we all agreed that what I needed at that time in my life was apparently my dad and so that is what I got. Then I went and cried like a baby.

Since then one other person at my school has passed a message to me, after more energy work, from someone who they believed was my dad. The message was pretty much along the same lines. I believed her, as I did Josh and Sergio, since she would have no way of knowing my dad had passed away and also had no idea of what had happened months earlier. I can never thank any of them enough for what they have given me by believing in the work they do and in what comes out of that work.

Sitting here now I suddenly realize how appropriate the messages are, him speaking to me like this. It was his voice that struck me so hard all those years ago, causing me to start writing in the first place. It was his voice that I wrote about in the poem that made me believe in myself. Even in the last stanza, I just now realize this as I'm adding it below, it's his voice I vowed to listen for. More than a decade later, no video required, he's talking to me.

Life really is amazing.

While my dad can't be here with me now, a part of him will always be with me in my words. Below is the poem I wrote all those years ago. I love you, dad.


My Father's Voice 

My father’s voice was proud and strong

Within it rang confidence, strength and song

It was deep and clear and demanded truth

It held no lies and it longed for youth

My father’s voice was stolen away

By the dark of the night, by the light of the day

It was stolen by the wind and blown into the sky

Never to be heard again, set free to fly

His voice was soothing, his tone was calm

It echoes through my mind, it echoes through the walls

It can drive a person crazy, it can calm a baby’s cry

It left his soul so fast that I couldn’t say goodbye

I hear it in my sleep, in my dreams it fills my mind

It whispers through my music, it screams throughout all time

It was taken by the sunlight, as the sun shall rise and set

I will try and try to catch it for it knows it owes me debt

I’ll not give up my fight and I’ll listen for the noise

Of the whispering and echoing of my father’s voice

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I Believe In Things Unseen

This is one of those poems that just hit me out of nowhere, word after word, until it all made sense.


I Believe In Things Unseen

I believe in things unseen

And in the dreams I dare dream

In my mind, and in my visions

In a place where magic visits

I believe, in this, in you

In things I have not seen come true

In silent whispers, stolen tears

In memories forged from prior years

In other places, other worlds

Where death is lovely, yet a curse

Where darkness beckons with a kiss

The innocence of tempted lips

In sunsets rising, stars that shoot

In places that are dark with soot

In death and shadow, love and light

Where my imagination lies

I believe in strengths unknown

Buried deep within our souls

In depths within yet undiscovered

In learning to trust one another

In simple truths we have not found

That silence is the greatest sound

That there is more to everything

If only we would just believe

In the unseen and the unheard

In things that are misunderstood

In long lives and the fountains youth

In searching for the hidden truth

That once we welcome in the light

There will be nothing left to fight

I believe that what we dream

Is more than just imagining,

It’s more than our revolving mind

It’s secret words lost over time

It’s places that we long to see

It’s everything that we believe

Its every thought, idea, hope

That’s living out there, still unknown

It’s undiscovered, blind to eyes

That veil what they wish to spy

It’s stories told but long forgotten

Myths and legends, memories haunted

For I believe in things unseen

In all the daydreams that I dream

I believe, in this, in you

In things I wait to see come true

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The Kindness Chronicles - A Kind State of Mind

The poem I posted the other day (I Know How it Feels to Scream) was in regards to this particular post. I scared my dear friend into thinking something was wrong, but really that's an older poem of mine and meant to let you know that I get it. I've been there. I know how it feels when things in life are difficult or you're trying to improve your life, yourself, in some way. It can seem like you're all alone, like only you are dealing with this, but you're not. I want you to know that. You're not alone.

For this particular post I want you to slowly think over what I'm trying to relay to you. Everything about your life, however it turns out, comes down to this one thing.

In high school I remember a test our English teacher gave us. If you could wish for anything, what would it be and why? Some people said money, some said a nice car, some just wanted to be done with high school. When asked why they wanted these things the answer was always simple - it would make them happy. Our teacher asked us why then, if happiness was what we ultimately were seeking, did we not just wish for that instead? That way, no matter what happened in our lives, no matter what we had or looked like or did, we would be happy.

These days happiness seems to elude everyone. Antidepressants are everywhere you look. I personally think a lot of that has to do with what we tell ourselves and trick ourselves into believing. How cruel or how kind we are to our own person has everything to do with what our life will look like day by day.

We judge one against the other. We grow up comparing ourselves to everyone. As children we hear the adults around us complain about wrinkles, body image, and social status. We absorb that and then we repeat it. Over, and over, and over. We compare cars, houses, jobs, bank accounts, and waist bands. We strive to be better but we take on other people's ideas of better, not our own. We latch on to the distractions in life, close our eyes, and keep going forward without ever stopping to really feel what we need to feel, so that we do what we need to do, just for us.

Different is a dangerous idea. Not just looking different but acting or thinking differently. We don't acknowledge that being different makes us unique and beautiful. The thing we forget is that the people we look up to, the movie stars and models, the hero's - they are unique. They don't all look the same, act the same, or think the same. Imagine if they did. Everyone would be identical and we would look up to a clone of just one person from long ago. The world would be terribly boring and everyone would be the same.

The worst part of all of this- we are never good enough. Never thin enough. Never successful enough. Never rich enough.

Never enough of anything.

I offer no quick solutions. No overnight miracles or magic pills that make everything better. I simply offer this: The answer to all of your problems, to everything you want in life that would require you to feel loved, happy and complete - is you.

At some point you will come to a time in your life where you have to make a decision. You will want something to be different or better. You have to make the decision to either carry on each remaining day believing these warped patterns that have been passed down carelessly for so many years, or to change them.

You will need to stop assessing yourself every second of every day and accept yourself here and now. The mental mind beatings will need to end. In their place you should put thoughts of kindness, patience and love.

When you think about it, what have you got to lose by being nice to yourself? Nothing at all. Kindness will not come along and thwart you or beat you down. It is here to lift you up, to enlighten you to yourself. Because the truth of the matter is simple. You are special. You are not meant to be anyone else. There is no one like you and there is no one - no one - that can take your place. At the end of the day the only person you have to impress is yourself. The only opinion that matters is your own. Do what makes you happy for you and everything else will follow.

What do you feel like you never have enough of?

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Inspiring Words

I was cleaning out my old yoga class files of things I read to my students and came across more poems and quotes, more things to make you think. That was always my goal: To have them enter class with what they already knew and to leave with a seed of an idea of something more.

Here are some seeds for you today.


A brief candle; both ends burning
An endless mile; a bus wheel turning
A friend to share the lonesome times
A handshake and a sip of wine
So say it loud and let it ring
We are all a part of everything...
 -Charlie Daniels




Think Different

Here's to the crazy ones.
The misfits. The rebels.
The trouble-makers.
The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.
They're not fond of rules,
and they have no respect for the status-quo.
You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them.
But the only thing you can't do is ignore them.
Because they change things.
They push the human race forward.
And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.
Because the people who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world,
are the ones who do.
-Apple

"My will shall shape the future. Whether I fail or succeed shall be no man's doing but my own. I am the force; I can clear any obstacle before me or I can be lost in the maze. My choice; my responsibility; win or lose, only I hold the key to my destiny." - Elaine Maxwell

"How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because some day in life you will have been all of those things." - George Washington Carver

Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts,
the depth where neither sin nor desire can reach,
the person that each one is in God's eyes.
If only they could see themselves as they really are.
If only we could see each other that way,
there would be no reason for war, for hatred, for cruelty...
I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other.
- Thomas Merton

"Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?" -  Abraham Lincoln

"Courage is fear that said its prayers." - Dorothy Bernard

"Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing, there is a field. I will meet you there." - Rumi

"Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." - Mark Twain

"When we feel stuck, going nowhere - even starting to slip backward - we may actually be backing up to get a running start." - Dan Millman


Loss - Autobiography in Five Chapters taken from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying

1. I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost...I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

2. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

3. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it there.
I still fall in...it's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

4. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

5. I walk down another street.


A Man of Words and Not of Deeds

A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds;
And when the weeds begin to grow,
It's like a garden full of snow;
And when the snow begins to fall,
It's like a bird upon the wall;
And when the bird away does fly,
It's like an eagle in the sky;
And when the sky begins to roar,
It's like a lion at the door;
And when the door begins to crack,
It's like a stick across your back;
And when your back begins to smart,
It's like a penknife in your heart;
And when your heart begins to bleed,
You're dead, and dead, and dead indeed.

Do you have any words that inspire you?


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GamesEyeView for all my Gaming Friends

I recall, fondly, the first time I discovered a video game system. Nintendo (NES) was foreign and beautiful, and although I could never kill anything in real life, I was very bent on knocking off every single duck that I possibly could in one of the first games, Duck Hunt. I didn't actually own this system but my friend Tracy did and I loved it. I would dream about how many ducks had it coming for them and then have at it the next time I had the opportunity!

Many, many years later I discovered Super Nintendo. It had been out forever but somehow I had missed it. I instantly fell in love with Mario and it became my own personal mission to save the princess, even if I didn't really care for her that much.

Then, the best system (in my mind) came out - Nintendo 64. I spend an entire summer beating Extreme G, Super Mario, and Mario Kart. An entire summer. I didn't just beat them, either. I killed them. I got all the secret stars and all the coins and everything I needed so I could race on tracks backwards and go to super top secret levels. I won the coolest skull motorcycle there was and then started all over from the beginning to do it again. I loved it, still do. Nintendo will always have a place in my heart and my house.

Now, to my importante news. My very talented gaming friend, Matt, has an AWESOME website for all game systems (PlayStation, Nintendo, Xbox, etc.) and he has a ton of info on pretty much every game, ever. He has interviews, movie reviews, everything your little gaming heart can dream of. If you're a gamer at all you'll love it. Love. It.

Check it out here:

GamesEyeView -First in Entertainment

His lovely wife, (my very dear friend/kidnapping cohort) Jess, also writes for him occasionally. She is also an excellent cook/baker/food lady and I'm trying to convince her to open a business so I can write about her too... and be her doorlady, with which I will then request my salary to be paid in dessert of my choice. She already knows what it will be.

Goodnight gamers. Have fun!

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The ABC's of NYC

Last weekend I went to New York City for the very first time. I've been wanting to go for a while now, and the right time/right place theory happened to pop into play for me.

It all started with a Waldorf Astoria hotel card I found years ago, one of the electric key card types. It was beautiful and elegant and seeing the card alone made me know I had to visit the world famous hotel sometime in my life. Very often the things that make me want to go someplace are small and inconsequential to most people, but stand out considerably to me. This is how most vacation locations are chosen.

From what I'm told, normally one night at the Waldorf will set you back considerably and since I am not secretly Paris Hilton, that was never really an option for me. In fact, I never stay at nice hotels. I don't do the hostel scene, but I do as close to that as possible most everywhere I go. Not this time though. Whether it be due to the economy or other circumstances, the prices now are in the more affordable range, (actually very affordable considering where you're staying) so I decided it was time to spend a weekend there.

The Waldorf is an amazing place. There is so much packed in there that on more than one occasion I got lost exploring it's vast hallways and floors. The Silver Corridor, in particular, was my favorite. A long hall filled with chandeliers and mirrors. There's also a museum section on the lobby floor, where you could see the history of the Waldorf, and on the night we checked in they were filming a movie at one of the restaurants.

Forget all of that though. What I loved were the pillows. Yes, the pillows. They were like magical fluff clouds from heaven. I don't know where one would purchase such pillows, but if I did I would have bought a dozen of them already and have created a pillow sanctuary in my home.

Justin and I did all of the touristy type things while we were there. We went to Times Square where we met a gentleman named Toast who wanted to sell us tickets to a comedy show. We were already planning on going so it was an easy sell, but the conversation with him all in itself was worth the purchase. I had never received so many compliments and threats in one conversation. Not real threats, but ones that included things such as "If you don't buy these tickets right now I'm going to bite your fine ass." Actually, he said some things along with that, that were far more inappropriate, which is why I can't even write it here. I was simultaneously flattered and terrified.

We went to Bloomingdale's, SoHo, NoHo, China Town, and Ground Zero. Ground Zero is much larger in real life and it hits home a little harder. We walked Central Park, attempted to go walk the Statue of Liberty, but opted for viewing it from a distance since the line was extra-specially long on our Memorial Day Weekend. We rode the Subway, took some cab rides, and talked to a lot of strangers who had moved to NY from various parts of Europe. Like our coach guy, Martin, who was from Ireland and a nice street vendor who was from Spain and was studying law at NYU. Even Ziggy, our hotel waiter, who was from Germany and told us all about NY and what it was like to work at the hotel.

View from the Top of the Rock
Photo Credit: Melia Metikos 2011

We went to Rockefeller and the Empire State building, and of course, Grand Central. Almost everywhere we were, I could see something that had been in a movie somewhere. What I didn't see, however, and was very much on the lookout for, were women in ridiculously tall high heels like in the HBO show, Sex and the City. I saw all of one woman who was rocking that style. Everyone else - flats. I knew that couldn't be real! We also went to this newer store called Limelight Marketplace. It's an old church renovated into a unique type of shopping plaza filled with one-of-a-kind stores, where the stained glass stands out amongst the the lights and goods. It was beautiful!

Mostly we walked and saw so much that I was pretty sure I would never be able to walk again. I am a very determined traveler and by that I mean that I want to see everything (EVERYTHING) and I will find a way to do so, somehow. In my world, there is no A or B option. There is a C, D, W, X, and Y as well. I'll find a way to make it all work.

We dug into the local cuisine as well. I don't limit myself to what I should and should not eat when I travel. Food is half the fun, it's part of experiencing the culture. It's one thing to get something you could at home, but it's a whole other thing to try authentic NYC pizza or have a freshly made macaron from the Macaron Cafe.  Food is as much a part of the place as the place itself and there's no room for regrets in my travel book, so I go for it. Plus, where am I going to find a spinach salad for breakfast? Nowhere, so no need to kill myself trying. A healthy and happy life is all about balance.

Anyway, at one point when we were in a cab, we passed a building that appeared to be covered in umbrellas. Umbrella's that were calling my name for a closer look. We get to China Town, head into a little restaurant, and sit down. This entire time I've been plotting how to convince Justin to go back to where we just came from, especially since I don't really know where it was. In addition to that, some of it looked a little sketchy. That doesn't bother me though. I tend to insanely believe that somewhere deep down my martial arts skills from high school will come back out, when needed, and I will be able to Walker Texas Ranger just about anyone if I really have to.

I pose the idea to him and I get a "no way" answer. We're both tired and again, I don't actually know where it is except for one sign I saw. I'm not a quitter though. I am equal parts stubborn and patient, and that combination alone means trouble. Also, I will regret it immensely if I don't go back so I then proceed to Google everything having to do with street art and umbrellas hanging from the side of a building in NYC. I find a lot of weird things, but stumble upon a picture of one of the graffiti paintings I saw and wham! I know where we need to go...mostly, anyway. I then give him The Look. You know, the one that says "pretty, pretty please" while I'm batting my eyelashes, as well as "I'm going to go with or without you, so you might as well just agree." That look. Eventually we hop in a cab and head back to the location that I've narrowed down and we find the umbrellas. I think I missed my calling as an investigator. Oh well. This moment made me as happy as I would have been had I received a pony all the countless times I asked for one as a child.

Photo Credit: Melia Metikos 2011

There were probably about two dozen or so umbrellas hanging from balconies. They were mostly all colors, with different shapes and patterns spray painted on them. Lovely, just lovely and unique and artistic. I took as many pictures as possible, although I don't really think any of them did it true justice.

After that we continued on down the sidewalk where I saw different chalk drawings on the cement, a fenced in weedy area where there were metal sculptures of a man, women, and a couple, and Nora the Explorer dolls in a tree. Interesting? Yes. Awesome? Absolutely. We kept going and came upon all kinds of graffiti art and more cement chalk art and the one picture I found on Google, which is apparently popular already. I honestly don't know anything about Alphabet City, but to me it's a magical place where artists go to showcase their work. I loved it.

For those of you interested in going, I highly recommend checking it out. Who knows what will be there when you go!

The graffiti that lead me to my umbrellas.
Photo Credit: Melia Metikos 2011

Do you have a favorite place in NYC? Or a city you dream of visiting?

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