Paging my mother…..

Dear ol’ Mom.

Ten years ago I moved to the Bay Area. In fact, almost ten years exactly. It was Memorial Day 1997.

When I told my mom I was moving, like most good moms, she was *none* too pleased that her youngest was heading to far flung places. And like the good New Mexican woman that she is, she spat the word “California” as if it tasted bad.

Mom is a natural born worrier. Her dad was a worrier. She’s a worrier. I *might* have to own up to a bit of the worry myself, but not to that level. I’m a rank amateur in the field of worry compared to her.

So of course, two things just *killed* her about me moving to the San Francisco Bay Area.

Bridges and Earthquakes.

“Why would you move somewhere so dangerous,” she asked, tartly and with conviction.

I reminded her that New Mexico has tornados.

She was not swayed.

“Look what happened when that bridge collapsed!” she reasoned.

I reminded her that New Mexico has flooding.

She was not amused.

“I can’t understand why anyone would want to live where there are so many people!” she shouted.

I reminded here that where she lived in Belen, they had Bosque fires every year.

She glared at me.

Should I send her this link to this blog in the ABQjournal entitled “The Big One”?

Seems a 3.3 earthquake hit Soccoro.

As a now veteran of the Bay Area, I can say that a 3.3 is a “teacup rattler” and not much more.

“A Socorro city councilor told 770 KKOB Radio this morning that it was enough to knock him out of bed”

I highly doubt that. I was in a 3.5. It rattled the front door in its frame like someone was struggling to get in, and gave me a good jiggle, but my heinie stayed firmly planted on the couch. The good councilor must sleep on the edge of the bed…that’s all I’ve got to say.

So shall I remind Moms that they have earthquakes in New Mexico, too? Or is it still too close to Mom’s Day to “go there”???


Uh oh…here it comes.

In a few more days.

A birthday.

Not a milestone year, but another year that reminds me that I’m not getting any younger…

That I wasted the carefree years when youth and time were on my side….

That I should be a hell of a lot farther along in my career…

and in my personal life…

That I should have these inner demons by the tail. Demons that have chased me since childhood, that invade my life, my relationships, my dreams, my thoughts. After this many years of fighting the good fight, can’t the soldiers just lay down arms and have a backyard bbq?

When can my demons and I share a frosty beverage, some charcoal cooked meat and learn to peacefully coexist? I don’t ask the demons to leave, no, they are an essential part of the human existence. When can we learn to live peaceably in the same space? That is the question.

I am the sum of all my parts, both good and bad. Some days, like today, I absolutely love who I am and what I’ve become.

Somedays I can’t tolerate being in my own skin. Like last week.

When did I go from being invincible to wondering if I should see a doctor about every ache and pain?

When did thoughts of my own mortality pervade my life?

Remember as a kid when you ran, it was like you were running SO fast and the wind made a whooshing sound in your ears and you felt like you could run forever and thoughts of dying, heartache, agony and disorder never crossed your little mind?

When does cynicism and melancholy take the place of easy joy? When did it swap that I have to work at staying happy instead of just *being* happy?

And when, fer cripes sakes, did we stop getting a big juicy birthday cake with a big passel of candles on top and awkwardly wrapped toys to celebrate another trip around the sun?

Where is my piñata?!?!

Ah well, birthday snarkiness is my new tradition. This should hang around a few more days, by the way, and I’ll be back to regularly scheduled rantiness.

My new birth year resolutions:

1) Hug my cat more, despite the fact she doesn’t like being hugged.

2) Hug my man more….he rather enjoys it

3) Tell myself I love myself one hell of a lot more.

4) Extend a hand to those demons and invite them to stop growling so loud

5) Eat. More. Cake.

To reunite…or not.

I’m thinking not.

This summer, I’ve been notified, is the twenty-year reunion of my high school. Oh sob.

I declined to attend the ten year. I hated high school. Oh, the school itself was fine, but that time of my life was….not great.

I didn’t have many friends in high school. I was well liked by all accounts, but out of a class of 550 graduates, I would venture I only knew a few.

And I only had two real close friends that I ran around with.

The closer of the two, an amazing girl full of life and vibrancy and a laugh that would light up the stars…she would be the only reason I’d even want to go. To sit with her and issue the snark and self-deprecating humor and assure ourselves that we are cool despite all evidence to the contrary.

Sadly that beautiful sense of humorous snark was extinguished by cancer in 2005. It hardly seems the same without her.

The other is a lovely woman who has married and has three children. She is a stay at home mom and has become quite religious. I’m happy for her, she is happy with her life. It’s just that…she and I no longer have anything in common.

The rehashed conversation about how I remain jealous that SHE got to date the star football player AND wear his letterman’s jacket while I never not once dated in high school will only last for a few minutes.

Then we’re left with…silence.

I looked at the list of other folks who are attending and I sort of know a few but nothing there is compelling me to get on a plane and spend three days with a wan smile on my face trying to pretend like 1) this is fun and 2) this used to be fun.

The gang is meeting up Friday night at Billy’s Long Bar. An Albuquerque institution, indeed. There are probably bits of my DNA in the thrashed bar and the barf stained carpet. But that was a lifetime ago. That was a different me. And I’m disinclined to revisit that person I once was. I’ve come a long way, baby.

So despite the fact that I “should” or “it would be fun” I think I’m going to pass on the reunion again this year.

What I can’t seem to get over is…why do I feel guilty about that?

Oh the life of a recovering Catholic…….

Happy Anniversary!

It was one short month ago today that I began this blogtastic journey.

I can’t believe it’s *just* a month because it seems like much, much longer.

It all began on St. Paddy’s Day, March 17th with this post.

What have I learned in my 30 days as a blogger?

1) Blogging every single dingle day is a LOT harder than it looks

2) There is a great community out there of bloggers and some wildly smart people blogging some fantastically smart, wry, witty stuff. I am humbled by what’s out there.

3) I have a LOT to learn about the blogosphere, blogging and all the associated technologies. RSS feeds, vlogs and Flicker, OH MY!

4) There is such a thing as the blogger state of mind. Natalie on her kick ass blog Petroglyph Paradox nailed in perfectly in her April 14 post “Perceptions”:

“Sometimes, I wonder about the lives of my blogger buddies. I wonder how someone actually lives beyond the anecdotal words of their blog. I wonder if they experience the same smelly, downtime or wake up with a story in their head or if they too, drive down the road, see something, and then say to themselves, ‘I’m gonna blog about that.’ “

I do this all the time. See something and then think what angle I can take to blog about it. I have a tiny notebook in my purse crammed with snippets of thoughts. Many of which have made their way to these pages.

5) I have learned that I am a chicken. Only a few folks in my life know about this blog. I know soon I need to come out of the closet, so to speak, and tell my unsupportive family that despite my Clark Kent-ish day job…in reality, I’m a writer, I have a book on Amazon and I’m a blogger….and then deal with the consequences.

Baby steps.

6) My blog is just as valuable as anyone else’s blog. What I have to say matters. Even if only to me. And having the courage to put it out there actually does take courage.

7) Blogging is good therapy. Boy can I get some stuff off my chest!

8) The feeling of elation I get after completing the post for the day is as addictive (more so, actually) as any drug or drink I’ve ever known. That satisfied feeling is something I crave. (addiction number 2 is looking at the webtraffic statistics)

9) I’ve always said I work best under deadlines. Doing this every day and only missing one day which was then properly made up for and backdated has proven this to me. I thrive when I have a deadline. I do some amazing work. It’s why I kick butt at National Novel Writing Month.

10) When I set my mind to something…look out. It took mere days from deciding I wanted to do this to execution. It’s a fact of my personality I actually admire. Should serve me well in my continuing quest to be a writer that people actually pay to write.

So today is a day of celebration for me. I’ll blow out the candle on a celebratory cupcake and go nuts.

Thanks to all readers, your webtraffic brings me joy.