California Dreaming, One

**Edit** Written yesterday.

I have blissed out beyond what I hoped for the entire trip after learning that my beloved Sister In Law, who I will for now refer to as “That’s Unfortunate” (TU) because of how she schooled me last night. Three therapy sessions in one sentance: Oh, you always feel like you have to please people? Me: Precisely. She: Oh. That’s unforturnate.

Truth nugget, that I’m still laughing at while I process. Meanwhile, she is someone that innately pampers and spoils everyone she can. So I’m taking it with a grain of salt.

Then we find out that J (Chooch’s son, who I hope to have a better moniker for by the end of this trip.) time will be plentiful and are now blissing out watching him play Rocksmith, which we brought, with his own guitar. He’s an amazing musician, we’re blown away as he’s acing The Dead Weather.

While talking throughout the day, many times returning to music, I realize the while I can play no instrument, I have been surrounded by musicians my whole life starting with my dad, who played acoustic guitar from as young as I remember, then stopped at some point (I wonder where that guitar is now?).

Then my brother started playing percussion in middle school through high school.

Then dating musicians.

Then marrying and later divorcing a singer and guitar player, now married to a musician of multiple instruments, with a son that that sang all four years in  high school choir, another son that has played percussion off and on since he was 6 or 7 years old (We provided a practice pad and drum sticks so he could get used to how it should feel since he was beating pencils and or his hands on everything anyways.) and has recently and seriously informed Chooch and I that he wants to be a musician as a career, and seeing J playing Rocksmith after more than 3 years of guitar lessons, several years of piano lessons, and now playing trumpet in the school orchestra. How joyful am I that my whole life I have been surrounded by music, enveloped in it, and will continue to, by people that I love and take such pride in their accomplishments.

Definitely counting my blessings this day, after blissing out oh-so-many unforgettable moments.



My Eternal happy place.


Can You Spare Any “Get Well, Soon!” Wishes/Prayers/Vibes?

Nope, not for me. Purging thoughts here, so skip to the bottom for the important bit.

We fly on Friday, December 21st, 2012. Yes, the same day the Mayans. And lookit, this has been one mucker fother of a year and I was not being brave or anything else. In truth, it wasn’t on the airline calendar, so we jumped at the lower fare (over $500 difference for 2 people!!!!).

Once realized, I came to terms with it quickly since we are heading to our Paradise — the place we always struggle and fight to leave, once we get there. We were plotting a most excellent holiday party with all of Chooch’s Cali family, a grand gathering at a much needed, difficult time for my man and I.

As expected, in spite of knocking wood, The Universe quickly bashed my brains in after my off-the-cuff remark that “2012 can suck it”. In fairness, it was while also proclaiming hope for the holidays, time with loved ones, reaching out for a touchstone/talisman/calmness that only comes from time with Chooch’s family. And it’s long overdue. But many different things vie for attention and time, and suddenly Christmas was coming so swiftly as to feel as if I’m being hunted down.

Note: Everyone has worked countless hours on Ditched by Kate’s upcoming album (release date TBA) and recent show (Nov. 26th, you missed it, sorry!). Possibly energized by the season, we’ve been working like elves around the clock, in the hopes of releasing their new album this year. I am unspeakably proud of what these amazing musicians created and are honing for the world to hear in all its glory. Long live DBK!

This and family issues combined as Christmas approached, and I was not prepared by any stretch, but, no worries, I had two weeks left. And if you know me, you know I can do a lot in 2 weeks. Then, BAM! Twisted ankle, worse than any I’ve ever had, and over a week later, I still can’t walk without crutches.

Okay, suck it up cupcake, throw out the baking list for my family’s gathering, forget shopping, just get to California for the holidays. If it hurts, push through it and get there. Pain is pain, but gather ye rose buds while ye may, and all that. Quick like a bunny — hop, hop, hop!

Then, in a year already besieged with tears for loves in pain and loves in loss, my unbelievably adorable Mom-in-law is now hospitalized for the next several weeks. By all signs, she will be fine. And it appears like better support will be available than before.

I am grateful that we got to hear her giggles of excitement when we told her of the trip.

I am grateful she is well and in the best hands.

I am saddened we won’t get the Christmas visit we dreamed of, but cling tightly to gratitude that we get to put our arms around her in less than three days. I love her dearly, as did my Mom. And her taste was impeccable, Chooch is my proof of that.

So, I think I’ll toss my hope and optimism in a tiny box and protect it with bubble wrap, tissue paper and everything else I can until it doesn’t resemble itself any longer. It will hide in plain sight of the Universe, but because it’s so ugly, it will not garner any attention. My hidden optimism will be safe from the stamping and stomping of the busy world, but will sparkle and shine for me and anyone else that wants to share in its glow.


If you skipped to the end, please take my post title as a sincere and humble request on behalf of a sweet and loving woman that helped shape the man and family that I love beyond comprehension. Many thanks if you can spare the time, as I know there are many things pulling at everyone this time of year. Namaste.

Too Long For Twitter

Stray Thoughts: Two

Some day, I shall gather up all my unfinished sentences and talked over comments and silenced words.

They have unrequited purpose.

They are made useless.

They sit like a bag of stones in my chest.

Hi. I talk a lot. It’s a nervous habit. It’s something I do when in the company of trusted friends. Sometimes it’s gold and sometimes it’s shit and sometimes it’s nothing other than shouting into the abyss.

Once I have them all gathered, I shall first pet them and give them ear skritches and make sure they are okay. Then I shall pick them up, one at a time, sit them in my lap with my arms wrapped comfortingly around them and give consideration to what they convey.

Then, lovingly, one by one, I’ll apply the five year rule. Meaning, is it something that will make a difference in five years for myself, loved ones, friends and the world in general. If not, I don’t have to inundate people with my thoughts, asked or unasked. Those I process singly, on my own and try to learn from them.

As an example, not everyone that asks for honesty actually wants it. And it varies from person to person to person to person how much honesty I can dare.

Imagine if like, trying to decide what will have made a difference five years from now? Even with my intuitive abilities, as they’re attributed, I can’t predict national tragedies, personal ventures and tragedies of my own and of beloveds, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt.

So, I suck at it and talk less, but still too much. Which is weird for me, because I always want all the options available when given a challenge. Not just the ones I “can handle.” All the options. All the information. All your words are belong to me. I want to make the best possible choice given all available viewpoints.

Some people only want to hear options that they would want to do. Some only want affirmation that their decision was the right one because it’s all they can handle. Some, like me, want all the options, painful or no.

I will not pretend that I will always handle information with good graces. I may get upset or overreact or think out loud, manically. It’s a process I think I learned from my mother, and it’s hard to break (the thinking out loud thing). But I also drop some funny fucking jokes along the way. That’s a compliment paid by husband, recently.

Something I had said was not only funny but fucking funny.

See what I mean about using more words? Just one more in that statement was enough to make me float on a cloud for the rest of the day.

Off for some Christmas frolicking with hopes that we all giggle more than we groan today.


Review: Wreck It, Ralph

Run, don’t walk, to the theater if:
You liked Scott Pilgrim and/or wished there was a movie like it for your ankle biters;
You like video games;
You like CGI movies;
You enjoy a good story of redemption with a shocking number of moments viewed through teary eyes;
You like fun;
You dislike not fun.

Admittedly, we missed the first few moments, but I don’t feel like we missed much. It was a surprisingly rich story, with many familiar faces (from the video game world) and familiar voices.
My hands down fave surprise? Jane Lynch’s performance. Perfect casting and perfect performance.

My goose-bump inducing fave moment? Sarah Silverman as Vanellope von Schweetz. I refuse to try and describe her other than as a cross between Housie’s daughters, Feral Dancer and Tiny Expert. Which, if you’ve never met them, would equal AWESOME!

I loved this movie, the soundtrack, the casting, the performances, everything.

Too Long For Twitter Uncategorized Whining

Stray Thoughts

I’m wondering why it is so hard for some of us to take our own journey. Even when lucky enough to have a partner, I hesitate before stepping on the path of another for fear that my footprints will leave an unwanted mark. It’s happened in the past. And I know it’s my fault because they told me it was (Haha, yes. I’m working on that, too.).

Now, I excel at finding silver linings and rainbows. I do it at every turn now. It makes a difficult process or period of time a bit easier, sometimes. Sometimes, not so much. But when feeling adrift and buffeted on all sides by storms, where does one turn? Speaking for myself only,

I get lost in the rhythm of the waves. It’s mesmerizing, don’t you think? And by studying them, you can learn from them. Hopefully something that makes the storm worth bearing. Most storms come and go without us ever learning such a thing, like what caused it or how it can be prevented in the future.

But, eventually, I find myself looking up, so the sky analogy works really well for me. (Religious notation: I was raised Roman Catholic; gave up on the preachings of old white men long ago and am currently researching Buddhism. I look up because that is where I instinctively look when talking to my deceased Mom, who is the person I “pray” to.).


I have been assured that I have strong intuition. I have an overwhelming urge to believe this, as so many come to me for advice. Why, I have no idea. I’m as lost as sea as the next poor bastard.


Why does parenthood have to be SO hard?
It’s like that film in middle school about body changes and sex and stuff, before you can grasp any of it (if you’re lucky), because you’re at an age when it’s biologically possible to get pregnant.
It’s that terror-filled moment of: “I can’t wait to see him” alongside the fear that I will negatively imapact his journey. That I’ll say the wrong thing.
It’s like, in the words of a very wise man, grape on the outside and salty on the inside. (Yes, I’m working on it… ^-^)


I find it un-fucking-believable that nearly no one I see regularly, as life finds me now, ever met my Mom.
How is it possible that so much of my life is utterly separate from hers?!?!
That what was, when she left, is now gone.

*sends up a red balloon*
Frakkin’ holidays.