Little things

I'm in the process of making a change.  A good change... or at least it will be.  I am very confident of that, and I feel right about making it.  It was a decision not come to easily, but a decision made all the same.  As I go about fulfilling it, I'm finding that it isn't the big decision that was hardest but all the little details that make carrying it out complete.  You don't realize how completely something has become a part of your life until you decide to remove it. There are so many areas of my heart and home that need raking over and redoing, and it's funny the things that are the hardest.  Not the big ones, but the little.

I sat in my car today, staring at the keys in my hand before I got out to grab that morning coffee.  There's something on the ring that has been there for many years, and it needs to come off.  I know this.  And still, there was a little voice in me that cried out, "Oh no.  Not yet.  Not this one." I confess I slid them back in my purse, with a promise to try again on another day.  I'll be stronger tomorrow.

How much do you tell?

I was blog-hopping through random blogs the other day when I ran across one from a woman who had just had a miscarriage.  It was their first pregnancy, and the moment they had gotten pregnant, they ran around telling everyone they knew...  and then, a few months later, they had to go about the process of telling everyone they knew that they weren't going to be having a baby this time, after all.  The writer talked about whether she regretted "telling all" in the beginning, and this got me thinking about what I write.

It's hard sometimes to decide how transparent I want to be here.  I've been blogging since my children were quite young...  I'm guessing 9 years?  I do it because I like it.  I do it because it's cathartic. I do it because it helps me sort through my thoughts and feelings. I do it because there's a little bit of the exhibitionist in my love of writing. I do it because sometimes maybe you can get something out of the things I've learned in my journey through life. I do it to do life with you.

It is important to me to be honest with you. I don't want to be someone I'm not with you.  Sometimes I miss the mark here, but I try to be real. If I've done something stupid, I'm not afraid to share that... whether for a laugh or because I think there's some lesson we can all learn from my mistakes. If I'm having a struggle with a friend, I'm not afraid to share that either... We all exist in the midst of relationships, and there is much we can all learn from each other.  But it is here that I feel like I'm often walking a tightrope.

Unless you're an AWESOME writer or fulfill a specific niche or some other such thing, chances are your readership, as a blogger, is relatively small.  Personally, at this point in my life, I like that.  Chances are also that the majority of your readers are your friends, which can sometimes make being real a bit of a challenge.  Sometimes your personal challenges are going to revolve around those relationships, and it can be hard to talk about your struggles without calling anyone out.  Do you know what I mean?  I struggle with this sometimes.  when other people are involved, how much can I tell here?

I don't know that I ever know what the right answer to that is... maybe it changes with the situation.  I don't regret trying to be honest, though.  And I will probably continue to go after that. We'll see how long it takes to bite me!  :)
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My Song for the Day:

Jessica's Daily Affirmation

Have you ever seen this video? Clearly, a lot of people have, as it's sitting at 7 million views... but I must have missed the viral craze on this particular one.  I just saw it the other day, and I LOVE IT.  What a brilliant way to start the day!

How many of us get bogged down in self-doubt, in what the world tells us is true about ourselves?  How many times do we focus on everything we aren't, everything we can't do, everything we don't have?  And then this little girl comes along with a chant about everything that's wonderful about her, everything that's great about her life, in this morning pep talk to set her off on her day.

Oh my gosh, we should do that!!  How much happier and enthused and productive and successful would we be with 2 minutes in the mirror, telling ourselves how much we have, how much we are, how much we can do?  How much brighter would the world seem?

Go do it. Go do it right now.  Get up... go look in the mirror... and tell yourself five things that are good about you, your life, your relationships.  Tell yourself five things you're fantastic at.  And then tell yourself you can do anything good!

And then go do it.

It's Music Plugging Time!

This has been a delightful week (for me) on the music front.  My beloved Lenka, who Joel and I saw in concert a couple weeks ago, has released her second CD, "Two," and I have spent hours and hours listening to nothing else.  I'm just as happy with this release as I was with the first!  I could listen to it all day.

I just love how HAPPY her music makes me.  I can't listen to it and NOT smile.  I suppose that makes it sound like it's all happy la-la "the world is perfect" music, and it really isn't.  The themes of the lyrics run from love to breakups to being sad to that quiet shy girl who thinks she'll never ever find love to being knocked down by life. It's written on subjects I can relate to...  but she's just so darned sweet, I can't listen to it and not smile.

It's music that makes me feel better, and I appreciate that so much.

"Two" is the first, and title, track for the CD and it's VERY fun.  A little different sort of feel to the music than what I'm used to from Lenka.  More edgy, maybe?  When I first played it, my kids were surprised to find out it was her.  A song about love, I find myself turning it up every time it comes on.

I've been listening to "Heart Skips a Beat" and "Roll With the Punches" for awhile now, as they were early release singles.  Both of these, I really love.  "Roll With the Punches" is a great song to listen to when I'm feeling put upon...  It reminds me to just get up and keep going.  Much love!

"Sad Song" and "Everything's Okay" are a couple peppy pieces that I'm listening to a LOT.  In fact, right now "Everything's Okay" is my current favorite.  Like I said, music that makes me feel better.  :)



Oh, "End of the World!"  Oh my gosh... I heard someone describe this as the "happiest Apocalypse song ever."  Totally apropos!  I love it...

There are more I love, but that's a good start... :)  Go buy it!  go listen to it!  Go love her!  She's adorable and sweet and cute and you should love her!  iTunes, Amazon, anywhere!  Then come back and tell me your favorite song so I can go "OMG I love that one too!!!!!"

Things I Remember... from Grandpa Jim's

• Going out to the garage and choosing from the obscenely large array of flavors of Shasta soda pop from the outside fridge
• The wax fruit and vinyl tablecloth on the kitchen table
• Playing with my mom's 1950's Barbie and accessories.  Way more sophisticated than 1980's Barbie!
• Dressing Barbie with the clothes that my great-grandmother had made
• Sometimes getting to sleep in my grandpa's bed when I spent the night
• NOT getting up to pee in the middle of the night because there was a bearskin rug underneath the bed with the head still attached and I was ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that, if I got out of bed, it would come to life and eat me. (Yes, my bear fears were established early on.)
• Reading the Zane Grey books
• Sitting with my grandma and watching/playing Wheel of Fortune while doing word searches
• BEST THING EVER!!!!-- Getting to mow the back field with the riding lawn mower.  All by myself.
• Driving over a large stick which cut off the engine to the "tractor."...  getting off, running in the house, and pretending it wasn't my fault.  Like Grandpa wasn't going to notice the tractor sitting there in the middle of the field.
• The candy hidden ALL OVER THE HOUSE on Easter morning
• Finding the candy that we missed all throughout the year
• Sitting on the porch swing in the backyard
• Taking walks up the country road and finding birds nests with eggs in them in the ditch
• Wondering what a davenport was

Who would win?

Every day, sometimes twice, I get these emails from The Daily Post.  They're blog prompts... and usually I don't need them, so I'm not really sure why I keep myself signed up for them.  Typically, I have more than enough to say on my own, and I just delete them.  Today's though, made me laugh a little.

"If you had to debate a younger version of yourself, who would win?"

Oh my gosh, the younger version would so win.  Not really out of wisdom... I'm way smarter now.  But out of pure passion.  Oh, it used to be so important to me to win.  When I was in high school, I would have these terrible debates with my dad. I needed to win. I needed to prove that I was smart. And of course, I always lost. What my dad lacked in passion, he made up for with maddeningly patient logic.

As I got older, my logic improved to come alongside my passion, making myself a force to be reckoned with!  I won more debates, I suppose.  But it was still so important to me to be right, to prove that what I thought was the right thing to think, to bring those that didn't agree with me around to my way of thinking.  To be right. To be right. To be right.  And, possibly most importantly, to be thought of as right by others.

Looking at that now... I wonder "What? Really?"

The younger me would probably win the debate... but mostly because the Now-Me just wouldn't care that much, and would likely get up and walk away.  I know the things I think. I know the things I feel. I'm interested in the things you think and feel.  And I'm willing to engage friendly-y with you on those topics, if you'd like.  But I don't really need to beat you over the head with what I think, or even to convince you that I'm right and you're wrong.

And maybe that is the real winning... to no longer have the need to win the game in order to be okay.  Sometimes there is greater joy in not playing that game at all.

Your Best Work

I have become, for all intents and purposes, a wimp. When I was younger, I used to read a lot of Stephen King. But he's too good at creating scenes in my head, and he scares the bejeezus out of me.  I find myself putting his books down a lot when I read them.  Not because they aren't good...  but because they are.  Because even if his character does not, I know what is beyond that door he is about to open, and I know what a terribly wretchedly bad idea it is, and maybe if I just PUT THE BOOK DOWN, he won't open the door and get eaten. I do this with TV and movies as well...  like me not watching it will actually stop the character from doing something they will regret. In any case, I am a wimp and I find Stephen King so good at what he creates that it scares me to death, and I can't read his books if Joel is not at home.  I need someone to protect me!

Anyway, other than The Dark Tower and a few works with strong ties to The Dark Tower, I don't really read much Stephen King anymore, but I respect him a lot as a writer.  I once read something he said...  I can't remember if it was in an interview or possibly in his book On Writing.  He mentioned some frustration over The Stand always being touted as his best work... as it was written some 20, 30 years ago.  I remember him joking about if that meant that everything he's written since has been crap?

I think of that sometimes... about how it would change the things I did, or if it would, if I knew that the best thing I'll ever do in my life has already been done.  Would it incite me to keep trying to top it, striving for bigger and better things?  Or if it would make me go "Well... that's it, then.  May as well just hang out at the spa for the next 40 years..."  Sometimes it makes me look at the things I've done so far in my life and think "This can't possibly be it..." and then sometimes it makes me look at the things I've done so far in my life and think "There is much here to be proud of."

I suppose it's good to not know.  I don't know what's to come next, and I don't know what I'm going to do next.  I think there is probably great promise in that... to know that the book of my life has only been written up until THIS chapter.  To know that the rest's of the book's chapters are yet to be written, and yet to be written by me.   To know that their contents can be anything I want them to be, that all I have to do is pick up the pen and start writing them.

Things I Remember... from Grandma Bev's

• Pancakes with warmed up syrup
• Sleeping in my aunts' old bedroom, wallpapered with signs of the zodiac, all in cream and green...
• When I went to bed, I imagined they came to life and talked to me.  (Shut up, that is NOT weird.)
• I had the only grandmother in the world, or so I believed, who went to bed in lacy lingerie.  She was so cool!!
• That horrible silver fake Christmas tree
• My grandpa, who never wore anything but boxer shorts.  I was much much older before I ever connected the very tall man in the three-piece suit with the deep gruff voice who worked at the family restaurant with my grandpa in his boxer shorts at home.  No clue they were the same person.
• Sitting in the living room at night and watching the lights of the city below
• Sitting in the living room in the morning and watching the deer graze on the lawn
• Creeping downstairs to the basement and digging through the costume jewelry that Aunt Sarah had left behind in her bedroom when she moved out after high school
• Being afraid of the storage closet underneath the stairs...  you were only safe from the ghosts if Grandma was with you
• The portraits on the wall, in my grandparents' bedroom, of them when they were young...  I come from good stock!!
• My grandma's bathroom...  lush green carpet, and a bathtub out in the middle of the room
• Being patted all over with body powder after a bath
• Shrimp cocktail at Christmas
• How all the grown up women in the family got the exact same "big present" and everyone pretended to be surprised when they opened theirs
• The "cork story" in the kitchen  (don't ask)

“All human wisdom is summed up in two words - wait and hope”

I've been in a season of waiting.  Planned waiting.  Good reasons for it, but waiting nonetheless.  I thought that the waiting would be hard.  I knew it was going to be a long season of doing so, and I do not think of myself as a patient person.  Anything but!  I want things and I want them now.  When I make a decision to do something, I want to get the something over and done with yesterday so I can move on to the next thing that needs doing.  So, I dreaded the waiting a little bit.  Less because I was afraid of waiting, and more because I was afraid of failing at waiting.

I needn't have worried about it so much.  Circumstances for the waiting were such that the waiting didn't come very hard.  In fact, the waiting was a welcome respite from doing. But, as the waiting period is coming to an end, and the time for acting looms closer, it is only now that I realize the protection that the waiting was.  It was risk-free, you see.  No action means no risk.  No risk means no failure.  And no failure means no pain. But I can't hide behind that for much longer, and my heart dreads just a little bit that which is to come next.

But I'll wait just a little bit more.


EDIT:

Back with a small addition...  you know, I was sitting here looking at that quote I added as a title... after I'd finished writing.  I just sort of threw it in there, without thinking much about it.  But I'm thinking about it now.  It seems to me that I forgot the "hope" part.

There is hope.  There is always hope.  And that's comforting.

Smile!

It's a busy day for me today, filled with vet appointments, lunches at school, errands, and art class (for the kids, not me... though Heaven knows I could use one!! Remind me to tell you about Christmas...), so I don't have much time to write today, and indeed I'm not sure I have a lot to say.

I've been getting back to reading again, and oh I forgot how much I missed just curling up on the couch with a book, and immersing myself.  I finished up A Northern Light, by Jennifer Donnelly, yesterday.  I liked it...  it was set against the backdrop of the same murder that Dreiser's An American Tragedy is, but follows the life and heart of a teenager.  I actually really liked the book... it was YA fiction, but a bit dark, which I actually liked.  Maybe something about the season I'm in right now... Maybe dark isn't the right word... it isn't sugar-coated.  Anyway, I liked it... give it a read...

Juxtaposed against all that dark, I suppose, I've been thinking about smiling today. It shouldn't be hard to smile, to put bounce in your step.  Not simply to have a bounce in your step, but to PUT one there.  It really makes such a difference.  I always feel better when I make myself smile.  It's sort of like opening the curtains on a dark room on a sunny day... how the light chases the dark back to the corners and under the couch.  It makes me feel lighter.  And it makes everyone LOOK better too!  Everybody looks prettier with a smile...  (well, okay, one exception.  I once saw a picture of Keith Harkin from CT where he looks all scowly and mad... and... he...  didn't look unpretty. What? I can say he's pretty if I want to!)  But really, I don't care what you think about what you look like... if you think you're too thin, too fat, if you think your nose is too big, your eyes too close together.  Whatever it is you don't like about how you look, you WILL look beautiful with a smile on your face!

So go smile at someone.  Sure, they may think you're crazy.  But you'll be a happy crazy!  And that's better than scary crazy, most likely.

Royalty

Today is very much a “thoughts in progress” sort of entry…  This is partly something I’ve thought about many times over the last several years… and part of it is something I’ve just STARTED thinking about, and I have no conclusions… just wondering.  J  Play along, yes?

I’ve been thinking about American royalty.  “But Jo,” you say. “This is America… we have no monarchy.”  Ah yes, I know, but we create our own, don’t we?  Hollywood, Nashville, New York. We may not have kings, queens, dukes, and duchesses.  But we make our own people to put up on a pedestal.. both to worship and to criticize. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about our royalty.  I’ve probably mentioned before that I really like period pieces, both in literature and film.  Partaking in these often puts me into the lives of kings and queens of old, and I think about what a different life that is.  In this case, I began thinking about it while listening to some morning DJs discuss the upcoming Royal Wedding.

My mind has kept turning this over, how we have nothing really like that here…  but that we’ve taken actors, actresses, and musicians… writers to a lesser extent, and we’ve made royalty out of them.  We’ve made them into creatures that are other-worldly and have allowed them to live by an entirely different set of rules…. Some of those of their own making, some of them are ours. 

It occurs to me that the people we put in this box… they’re all people who somehow allow us a bit of escapism.  They both tell us how to feel and give us a mode to express the things we do feel, and give us things to feel about so that we don’t have to feel about our own things.  As I said, this is still very much a thought in progress… in process.  I’m just turning over in my head what it is about THIS that they provide that incites us to make pedestals for them and to set them apart.  Don’t really know the answer… just pondering today. 

Some days are like that.

Sometimes...

Sometimes it’s hard.

Sometimes putting one foot in front of the other is the best you can do.

Sometimes just standing still in the current of your life is the best you can do.

Sometimes not falling down is the best you can do.

Sometimes truth hits you like a 2 x 4 in the face.

Sometimes it trickles in.

Sometimes you can only accept it one little bit at a time

But sometimes it all seeps in.

And sometimes you have to accept it.

Sometimes you have to act, even if you know the outcome will not be what you want.

Sometimes you have to accept that what you want is not what you need.

Sometimes what you need is far simpler than you ever dreamed.

Sometimes you have to let go to hang on.

Sometimes you have cry.

Sometimes you have to laugh.

Sometimes you have to bang your head against the wall.

Sometimes you have to bang someone ELSE’s head against the wall.

Sometimes you have to accept that banging someone else’s head against the wall is not really your job.

Sometimes you have to wait for life to be their Great Teacher.

Sometimes you have to look for your blessings.

Sometimes you have to get a new blessings bucket because yours has overflowed.

Sometimes you have to look at your trials with new eyes to see how they fit in your buckets of blessings.

Sometimes you have to wait.

Sometimes you have to breathe.

Sometimes life isn’t what you want.

Sometimes people aren’t who you want them to be.

Sometimes YOU aren’t who you want to be.

Sometimes you keep going, anyway.

And sometimes you smile.

From a bench at the mall...

I saw a delicate brown-eyed little girl, barely toddling.  She bent to examine something shiny, and I wanted to tell her to remember this moment.  I wanted her to appreciate that the wonder of the little things fades as we grow, and that the shiny of a coin would become commonplace, and that she would forget.  She would forget to be amazed.  And I wanted her to remember this moment in her heart.

I saw, through the store window, another girl of 10.  She danced to the video game, and I wanted to tell her to remember this moment too.  Someday, she might be a gawky teen or even adult, and she would be too embarrassed for the world to see her try.  So I wanted her to remember this moment of complete lack of self-consciousness.  I wanted her to remember what it was to dance and not care who knew.

I saw a group of high school girls, giggly and yet pretending to be grown-up.  I wanted to tell them to remember this moment… that friendship and time to connect would not always come this easily. I wanted them to know how lucky they were to have each other, to have people they enjoyed to do life with.  I wanted them to appreciate the laughter and the good times and to hold their friendships sacred. Too easily lost, too often thrown away.  And I wanted them to remember what it is they played with.

I saw a young mom, tired and worn out, as her child wouldn’t be consoled.  I wanted to tell her to remember this moment too.  I wanted her to know that it was okay, that children sometimes just cry.  I wanted her to remember the times when she could fix everything with a  cookie and a band-aid… that someday, the scrapes and bruises of the knees would become wounds of the heart and slightly less treatable with chocolate chips and strips of cotton.  I wanted her to remember the chubby arms around her neck and the sticky kisses on her cheeks.  I wanted her to know that this, too, shall pass.  But that this applies to the sticky kisses as well as the crying through the mall, and to appreciate where she was right in that moment.

As I drove home, I realized it wasn’t them I wanted to tell.  It was me.

I wanted to remember what it was to be amazed by the smallest of things. I wanted to remember what it was to dance, to not care who was watching me, to act without inhibition. I wanted to remember the gift of friendship and I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I wanted to remember when everything could be fixed with graham crackers and a mother’s kiss.

There's a song for that.

Isn't music a magical wonderful thing?  I was thinking about how blessed we are to have it.  I can think of nothing else that is so universal in its ability to heal, encourage, motivate, and inspire.  I love how there is music for everything... whether you want it to reflect where you are in this moment or if you want it to spur you onto something different, there is a song that fits where you are and what you need.  

Just got dumped and want to cry?  There's a song for that.

In love and want the world to know?  There's a song for that.

Totally pissed off?  There’s a song for that.

I recently came out of a season of hurt.  It doesn't really matter what for, just that it hurt.  All those peppy songs that were on my playlist needed to go.  It was like they were taunting me in their very delight with life.  Off they went, and in their place came a set of music that spoke to the hurting heart.   I don’t know why, but there’s something just a bit exquisite about twisting that knife one turn more, isn’t there?  It’s not that it feels good, but there’s a sense of savoring the pain.  My, that sounds masochistic.  It’s not really that. They say that it’s our trials that build our character.  That’s all nice and cliché, but I think maybe it’s tasting that very hurt that allows us to push past it.

Sometimes I wonder why, when we’re going through hard times, we seek out that music that allows us to wallow just a bit… because we do.  It seems that it would be better for us to jump to that which would motivate us to climb out of it.  But, it’s not the wallowing really. I find it’s more the comfort of knowing that somewhere, at some time, even if just for the time it took them to write that song, there was someone who understood what you felt. There is reassurance in that, in knowing that you aren’t alone.

A couple weeks of wallowing and I found that I didn’t really so much need that reassurance anymore, and the songs I found myself playing were ones that spoke of healing, of surviving, of moving forward.  There are songs for this, too, when you come to the point where you can move away from protecting the hurt, where you’ve emerged from your turtle shell to go on.  (ha!  See what I did there??)  I always appreciate music so much during this part of the healing. 

“Climbing out” seems to describe the process so well.  You start up the incline to the top, but there are always those moments where you want to give up.  It’s too hard, you can’t do it, and there’s the inclination to give up and fall back to the bottom.  Sure, it’s dark and cold down there, but you don’t have to work so hard.  Admittedly, I don’t really do a lot of climbing out of holes in my real life, so I suppose I can’t compare accurately.  But it SEEMS like it would be a good metaphor.  Right, so you’re wanting to give up… and it’s at these moments when you just can’t go on anymore that music is so valuable.  It becomes that friend at your side that says “keep going… you’re almost there.”  And combined with the REAL friends saying the same thing, it makes reaching the top quite attainable.

And now, here we are at the top.  I look behind me at the six weeks that came before and I’m grateful for the music that got me through.  Thank you, my melodic friends, for being what I needed when I needed you.  I daresay there will come a time that I will need you again… and in truth, there are a couple of you that I came to love so much that you’ll get to stick around awhile yet. 

But right now, I’m ready to smile again.  I’m ready to laugh.  So welcome back, Footloose and Top Gun.  Welcome back, Brad and Little Big Town.  Welcome back, Mellencamp and Billy Joel.  I rather think that I’ve missed you and I’m ready to do a little more dancing.  I believe there’s a song for that, too.

I almost feel that I need to apologize to you, my friends and readers.  This became far more personal than I had intended when I started writing.  The blog I originally wrote in my head was far more generic!! I didn’t really want to write about this just yet.  I’m not sure I wanted to let you in this far.  I’m not sure I do even now, and I’m not sure I’ll hit that submit button come the morning.

Vulnerability comes with a price, and not one I always like paying.  But there seems little reason to do this without an attempt at honesty and openness.  Isn’t that part of why we blog?  So, if you’re reading this, it means I decided to trust you.  It means I decided to let you in.  And it means I’m hoping you love me enough to honor that.

Not what I planned...

I was sitting at my desk on Friday evening last week.  I had just made myself a cup of coffee with a bit of caramely creamer (alas, no Baileys yet... I'm off alcohol for a bit...) and was relaxing into a quiet evening of writing, reading, and laughing with my best friend.

Then, McKenzie came downstairs.  "Mom," she said.  I turned to her to see her eyes brimming with tears.  "I think I swallowed a coin."

"You did what?"  Please let me mention that the child is 11 years old.  I really thought you could stop worrying about this at, say, 5.  "Well.  You're not choking, right?  You don't feel it in your throat?  Well, you're probably fine.  It'll just come out the other end."

"But what if I DIE???"

"Honey, you're not going to die... you'll be fine.  Go on and play..."

That was going to be the end of it... but then I got to thinking I should PROBABLY do the good mom thing and at LEAST call to make sure I was right in my decision to just not worry about it.  I called up the nurses' hotline to see.  McKenzie couldn't remember if it was a quarter or a nickel ("It wasn't a dime.. and it was silver... so one of those.")  Given the possibility of the quarter, they told me I should come in, just to be sure.

So... off we went for a glorious evening in the Urgent Care office of our hospital.  Yay!

The one good thing was that the office was empty, and the whole thing really didn't take that long.  We got there, and we checked in.  It's amazing how many times you have to tell the same story when you go to the hospital.  At check-in.  At triage.  To the nurse person when you get into the examining room.  To the doctor when he comes in.  To the X-ray guy.  They should just let you tell it once, and then pin it to your chest.

On the plus side, the doctor we had was a PERFECT fit for my laidback parenting.  There are just things I don't get terribly excited about.  Or maybe it's just that I try to keep an even attitude.  When our twins were babies, they were 8 weeks premature and spent 5 and 8 weeks in the NICU, and I remember hearing comments often from our nurses about how calm we were as parents.  We never got really excited and or hugely upset about the things that went on.  But why would we?  It's not like it would CHANGE anything.  The only time I lost it was when they gave a name to what McKenzie had.  This was probably more the effect of the previous 6 weeks of stress building up in me and needing an outlet.  But there was just something about what she had having a NAME that made it all too terribly real and unbearable.  But that was the only time.

Anyway, perfect match for me.  He was surprised that the nurses hotline had told us to come in, but he played along.  He told me he was sending us for Xrays, but that he wasn't really looking FOR the quarter, but rather to make sure it wasn't where it wasn't supposed to be.  It wasn't.  So we were sent home!

Neither of us had really had dinner yet, so we stopped off at Shari's for a midnight dinner.  I think McKenzie was pretty tickled to be eating out that late.  This was a really nice part of the night, actually.  To quote my girl, "We should really do this more often!"

I laughed, though, when two days later, I got an email from one of the doctors that we see regularly, asking me if I'd seen the quarter pass yet.  She's 11.  Unless they tell me it's medically necessary, I'm not going to be digging for 25c.  It just ain't happening.

Just hits the spot!

Do you ever get a spend an evening doing something and it's just EXACTLY what your little heart needed in that moment?  That was last night for me.

About a year or so ago, Joel discovered this Australian singer named Lenka.  He'd stumbled across her while listening to another artist he likes, and the rest of our family was quickly converted.  I don't really know how to describe her other than positively adorable.  All of her music is peppy and fun, and you really can't help but dance a bit when you hear it.

I recently watched an interview with her where she mentioned that she likes to write on "teenage themes" and I get that...  I suppose it makes her music universal in its heart.  Maybe it's because she writes as a girl, and I find myself, even at 34, sometimes hitting the same lessons over and over in cycles.  (Maybe if I learned them, yeah?)  And some of the songs she writes, I guess I just identify with them.  And even though her music is peppy, the themes are not always... those personal heartaches we all have.

Anyway, I've been needing a shot of happy and last night was just the night for it.  Weeks ago, McKenzie discovered that Lenka was coming to Seattle for a show.  But she was later disappointed to discover that it was at a bar, and she was far too young to attend.  But in typical good-parent fashion, Joel and I said "Well.  There's no reason WE can't go!"  Yes, we earned our Parents of the Year trophy that day.



So, we went last night and it was much fun!  Joel remarked in the car on the way home... "She was great!  It's sort of sad when I'm surprised to see a singer live who sings just as good in person as she does on her CD."  Lenka really was fantastic... she's just as cute and adorable and she is on the videos I've seen on YouTube.

(The guy that you hear talking to the left of me had just sidled up to the stage, exclaiming his love for Lenka.  OMG.  He was so drunk and he REEKED.  I'm fairly certain he SWAM in his beer, as opposed to drinking it.  And if he hadn't been so very large, I would have shoved him off my foot.  but I'm fairly certain he could have taken me in a barfight.  lol)



After the show, we went back and got a CD and Tshirt.  Unfortunately, she'd run out of her new CD so i bought a copy of a CD I already had so I could get it autographed.  But it was worth the $10.  When it was our turn, I explained that my daughter absolutely loved her and was so mad that she was too young to come.  Lenka asked how old she was, and then said " Oh poor little pet... what's her name?"  So McKenzie now has her own autographed CD.

All in all, it was a great night and I'm so glad we went!!  Even if my feet are now ready to fall off.  :)