I Blame the Italian in me...

Leaving work with a whopping eight dollars, creativity was needed in how to spend my earnings.

So a walk was called for and the "whopping" eight dollars found itself spent on a tea, and an orange danish thingamabob for an older gentleman in a wheelchair, who said he had diabetes, and hadn't had a thing to eat all day. (Sadly, I couldn't afford the double mocha frappuccino he requested--but we weren't at Starbucks either).

Being asked a week ago by a friend if I was trying to get him fat, I now realize I have more of that stereotypical Italian woman flowing through my veins than I thought. Eat, eat...I say. Though instead of pasta and risotto, I pass on pastries and baked goods.

MANGIA!!!

Yep, that's me.

And then walking the streets--money spent--I sang again at the top of my lungs, viewed the beauty of hidden flowers, almost got hit by a speed demon car--child in passenger seat and the father driving had the nerve to roll down his window while turning and tell me he saw me and not to stress--I proceeded to give him a piece of my mind and then I was home.

And I realized dinner would be the same as it had been the past two nights.

A bowl of Cheerios.

I hope the guy liked the orange danish thingamabob and it didn't send him into glucose shock.

Bawk...bawk...bawk...

So got Bawked at on my evening walk.

What is "bawked" you may be asking yourself?

It is the very loud sound of a chicken (bawk...bawk...bawk) coming from a human face, sticking out of an SUV that is speeding down the street rapidly.

Now what should one's response be to this?

Mine was to jump hysteraically and exclaim, "What the **** was that for?" (Yes I know, not the most profound statement or the best reaction. I'm working on this, I have never been good at responding to bawking noises. Never learned chicken in school you see.)

Now off for a drink... to calm the nerves.

Singing and Dancing

Tonight, after a late night of work, I strolled the darkened streets of beautiful SLC.
The stars were crisp and clear in the near Fall night air.
My legs strutted their way down the hill in tall black boots (flip flops are gone sadly).
And I was walking/dancing with a hot mint tea in my hand.

I was also singing at the top of my lungs to the all powerful music of Adele (her album 21).

I find it liberating to sing into the void of the night. I may or may not be in tune, but it's the vibration of my voice echoing through the silent city streets that makes me keep moving. And then you happen to run into people and you have to ask yourself, "Do I stop singing? Or do I just belt out the lyrics louder?" I went with louder.

I have to laugh at the response people (or cats) gave as I walked past singing and dancing. Expressions of oddity take over their face. Either they look at you quizzically, thinking "that girl must be crazy." Or you see a smile come across their face. (If by chance you spot a cat, they usually just try to rub against your leg, in the hope they may be pet. And when done with that they walk away, tail in the air with not a care in the world--as cats always do.)

The person's smile makes me think, we all need to go out and sing and dance as we walk life's crazy path. Why hide your voice? Why not sing to the mountains, the trees, the cats and dogs? Why not sing for ourselves and those around us?

I can not come up with a reason people might find me crazy as I sing and dance to my own beat. (I mean lets face it: It's my own beat!!!) We should all do this. So I say to you tonight, "Go out... Sing a song... Let everyone hear your voice. Let yourself hear your voice."

I will tell you, a smile will come across your face and you will feel like skipping down the street when people laugh at you.

"I have an agenda..."

This was a statement made to me by a friend tonight, over wine and the delicious treat of wheat thins and hummus. We were talking about everything and anything really, and he discussed one of the small agendas on his list. An agenda that had the possibility to create change in a person.

As he left, I went to my computer and began watching a few shows on hulu (as is the case with my life) and afterwards I stepped outside into the soon to be Fall filled air, and I began thinking, "What is my agenda?"

We all are there, right? Wondering what our purpose is in life? (Though I will say to this, I have apparently found the individual who has--as he puts it--cracked this code (literally 50,000 lines of code) and can apparently answer the large question of: What am I doing here? Another blog to come, once I've had my reading with him). But anyhooo.... back to the agenda.

I have wanted to do many things in my life. In high school I knew I was going to be a concert promoter. In the early beginnings of college, I intended on owning my own business. I have wanted to be a baker, an actress, a photographer, a writer, an editor, an oral historian... the list goes on.

I have wanted to do...

But really, the question should be... what do I do naturally? What am I good at? What do I enjoy? What are the things that inspire? What is my agenda for change?

The answer is really quite simple when I break it down... I collect stories (memories or moments to be exact). I listen and I write them down. My agenda is collecting and sharing these stories with others.

This blog has gone through many changes from when I first started it. It has progressed from those few photographs with a sentence of explanation, to a girl who will write about anything that goes on in her day or her mind (i.e. telling people about my odd and macabre dreams). To a combination of my writing and baking skills. I use it as a way to document my thoughts, but also to work on my writing/storytelling.

Currently, I bring small snippets of daily tales that I find intriguing (or somehow connect with the odd life I find myself living). Tonight though, I would like to ask for your help with my agenda of collecting stories.

If you could ever be so kind as to leave a comment attached to this post of a story I could write about, I would be so ever grateful. I don't care if it's a memory you have with me, a story you like that I tell and for some reason I haven't posted here, or something I need to spend a bit of time doing research to write about. Whatever it might be, post it here and I will write more. I will collect more stories. I will abide by my agenda.

Moments

There are always moments. Moments you try to cling to, that you don't ever want to let go of. They're there with you always in memory, but sadly they fly by in real life. And so we attempt to cling to them--those times when you feel completely at peace, yourself--we attempt to capture every detail with our eyes, our ears, our hands.

Moments... Moments of laughter... Moments of a perfect sky blue day... Time with family... Times in a lovers arms... Times with friends... Moments... Moments that spark a light in our mind and make us remember.

Today was one of those times of remembering. It was merely a moment on my walk, and an old friend was back in my mind. I was transported back to high school with all the moments it contained. For a few years, there was one girl who traveled with me on my path, and I traveled along hers.

The moment was a flash back to sitting on the front lawn of our high school. I was picking dandelions and she was teaching me how to harmonize as we sung a Tori Amos song. Then like a dream, the moment changed and we were in my basement room, lighting candles and incense (Nag Champa or Patchouli) to take photos. We took a lot of photos. And we moved those candles over and over again.

Again a jump, and the moment of her taking care of me after a concert (and my second cigarette in life). She got me to the car and all was fine. All the moments of dancing at all the concerts we went too. The sleek black pants we wore (how I wish I could find that style again). The moments of acting on stage together, because hey lets face it, we did look a bit a like sisters (if you went with the fact we were both part Italian and had dark hair).

And then I remember that moment... that small moment, which still haunts me at times... the only time I have ever screamed out of true fear. It only lasted a short time, but I recall thinking that I never knew a sound like that would come from my voice. She was there, she was there behind me, she was there to console me afterwords. She was there.

And then high school ended and life paths changed. And 14 years later, I'm on a walk (in a city we both live in) and the moments come back to me. And so I guess I would just like to say that I remember... I remember the good times... I remember the girl who had my back... My life in high school would have been another world had she not befriended the new girl back in 9th grade... I remember the moments.

9/11--Neighbors and Cobbler

For some reason I feel as though I've accomplished something when I've baked in the day. It's not the actual baking process, it's the act of sharing.

This day, 9/11, is ingrained in the American Nation as a day of remembrance. A day of reflection. Though maybe it should also be a day of sharing.

Ten years ago today, I woke to my roommate shouting, "Manhattan is on fire!" In my groggy state of mind I asked, "Manhattan, where's Manhattan?" As the sleep rolled off, and I walked into our living room, Miss georgia b. and I sat on our futon and watched as the second plane collided into the twin towers in New York City. Our state of emotions and thoughts that day were solemn and questioning. It seemed surreal, and I am thankful that we had each other (even if we did just stare at each other in disbelief).

This week, I have been listening to the amazing stories collected, and animated, by StoryCorps. I find it amazing how a three minute story is able to bring such overwhelming emotion, and connection, to a person.

In the spirit of connecting, my neighbors organized a neighborhood BBQ tonight. So on the 10 year anniversary of 9/11, I spent the day baking cobbler, and sharing with my neighbors. It wasn't just food, but finding out each others names, talking about what we do with our lives, laughing, and the great experience of being with others. Living.

I found it fitting. If 9/11 taught us anything, it's that life is precious. We should share together always. And we should appreciate the times we have with each other. Whether family, friend, neighbor, or stranger on the street take the time to notice the people near you, and smile for what you have.

Peach and Rhubarb Cobbler

1 c. sugar

5 t. corn starch

2 T. orange liquor or orange juice

3 c. cut rhubarb

5 large peaches (sliced and cut in half)

1 c. flour

2 T. sugar

1 1/2 t. baking powder

1/4 cup butter

1 egg

2 T. milk

Preheat oven to 375*. In a large sauce pan, on stove top, add sugar, corn starch, and orange liquor (or juice). Mix together lightly over medium heat. Add cut rhubarb and stir until bubbling. Add peaches and stir. Allow to bubble and thicken. Take off heat

Mix together flour, sugar, baking powder. Cut butter into flour mixture until it looks like coarse crumbs.  Stir together egg and milk. Add to flour mixture and stir until formed together. Knead slightly with hands until all ingredients come together.

Place fruit mixture into a 9x13 glass dish. Crumble crust on top of fruit until covered. Place dish on a cookie sheet (in case the fruit bubbles over) and cook for 30 minutes.

To top it off, a bit of vanilla bean ice cream doesn't hurt.

Hope you enjoy sharing with your friends.

Something you don't know about me...

So here's something most people don't know about me: I love modern Kung Fu movies. Yep... give me Jackie Chan or Jet Li and I will be fixed to a screen. Entertained for a few hours+, because I can watch their movies over and over again.

I don't know what it is about Kung Fu? Maybe it's that it seems like an intricate dance or possibly it's that good always prevails in these movies (my favorite story line). Actually, it's probably more the deleted scenes at the end of the reel. I mean really who can resist such action and skill from the human body, and then bloopers to boot? :)

Anyway, I spent my night watching both Jackie Chan and Jet Li in the movie Forbidden Kingdom tonight. As I was watching, I thought to myself, "how cool would it be to really master Kung Fu?" Then I thought of all the work it would take and how my time is already consumed. So then I thought, maybe I could just become animated and be the Kung Fu Panda instead.

Wish they had blooper scenes in Kung Fu Panda...

Like I said, I love modern Kung Fu movies and most people don't know this about me.

A Slippery Slope

Oh yeah... This girl went to Raging Waters this overcast Labor Day. I spent my time with work friends, braving the rickety wooden steps, and splashing my way down plastic tubes that are colored bright orange, green, blue, and purple. (As one friend told me, go purple or go home.)

But as my body was pushed down each lively tube to a splash down of water, I began thinking: "I'm riding a slippery slope in life."

Things are going really well at the moment, don't get me wrong. But my dreams are beginning to tell me things. Most of which I don't understand. But subconsciously I am (apparently) trying to deal with a lot. And if I've learned anything in life, the one I hold to is, sometimes you need to ask for help to clarify what's going on. So here are my odd dreams, and I ask for help from you to decipher them.

1. Lady Gaga

First let me tell you, I know very little about Lady Gaga. I know she judged on So You Think You Can Dance and I've seen one of her music videos. So I find it odd, with the little I know about her, that she made it into my dream. Anyhow here I go with what happened.

I was on a hill, there were different buildings around. Lady Gaga appears and she is in a disguise, blond shoulder length wig and regular clothing--white t-shirt and jeans. She is pushing a shopping cart that contains an air-conditioning unit in it. Trying to find her a hotel where she won't be recognized we begin pushing the cart (full of AC unit) up the grassy hill. We get to the first hotel, but they recognize Lady Gaga so we retreat and find ourselves in a different hotel. Here we seek refuge. Lady Gaga installs the AC unit and all is fine until someone begins banging on the door shouting, "We know she's in there."

Then my mind jumps to the next dream.

2. Mouth

This one is short, but a bit disgusting so pass it if you'd like.

I'm sitting on my bed in my room, I begin coughing and this vile slimy substance (formed like a long rope) is coming from my mouth. I begin choking, so I grab at this slimy rope and begin pulling and I feel it moving out of my esophagus.

Which then moves to...

3. Thigh Wound

Now here's the kicker. Again, a warning this one is a bit macabre.

So I'm at a guys house that I dated for awhile. He is in his living room talking to his friends, I'm in his room laying on his bed with a sheet wrapped around me. I'm staring down at my thigh and there is a large bloody hole in its center. I keep looking down at my thigh thinking, "I should probably have this looked at," while the guy is laughing with his friends in the other room. I wait awhile before I make up my mind (I don't want to disturb the conversation with his friends). Finally, I get up and walk into the living room with the sheet wrapped around me and look at the guy and say, "Hey, I think I need to go to the hospital and have this looked at." He stops talking to his friends and looks and me frustrated and says, "Is it your thigh again." I say, "Yeah,"surprised because apparently this has happened before. He shakes his head, places his hand inside my wound and pulls out a pouch of congealed blood, and whatever else, and throws it to the side. My thigh heals, all that is left of the gaping wound is a bit of dried blood and he shakes his head and says, "You really need to stop freaking out about that." I say, "Sorry, I guess I'm just being stupid," and he begins talking to his friends while I just stand there wrapped in a bed sheet.

Then I wake up.

I have no idea what these dreams are trying to tell me. Any insights would be greatly appreciated. Hoping for better dreams tonight, and no more slippery slopes.

Transition

So July (as you know, if you've been reading my blogs), was a bit of a fog. I remember bits and pieces of it. August was my recoup time. Getting your body and mind to overcome the effects of depression (and whatever else it was in July/June/late May), is never an easy task.

But right now, September, seems to be a time for transition and reflection. I don't know why I keep having flash backs to my youth, but I do. Memories are floating into my mind. Little clips and images from a disconnected film reel that is my life.

Like a moment in Olympia were I was sitting at our table and I was watching my Mom make jam. She had dark hair then, with lots of wavy bouncy curls. Just a glimpse and the memory of thinking I was excited.

Or a time out with my Dad. We either lived in Tumwater or Olympia (and now that I'm older I realize these two places are closely connected), we were out in the forest--probably not to far from the city--and there was a tree trunk, hiding behind it was a porcupine my Dad was pointing to.

I remember the holy tree in our yard. The hollow inside that was used by my sister and her friend as a secret fort, I wasn't allowed in.

I remember playing red light green light, as my friends and I raced to get to the Red Subaru my parents had parked in the driveway (interesting note: that car took my family on over 10 years of family trips, and transported two rabbits from Logan to Vernal Utah).

I remember a trip to the Seattle Zoo with my Dad. Hanging out in a tree, brown bag lunch with the class, and falling asleep in my Dad's lap on the bus ride home.

There are more memories, all very early, all streaming back to me in vivid color this September. Maybe my mind is trying to let me know I have always been in transition. That no matter the time or my age, I was always progressing, seeing things a new, and moving forward to experience all the things people have to share with me. And now I want to share with people too. (Though I doubt I would have been willing to share that lollipop. And who thought the red socks matched the purple dress?)

Oregon Pops

In April I had the great experience of traveling to Oregon with my Dad. A week long trip of seeing and listening. Finally, tonight I put a small film together documenting a clips of our4 trip. It took the inspiration of listening to Monsters of Folk to put it together.

Hope you enjoy.