60/365 - Connection is Inspiration

There are few words left for me to write tonight. Most of them were spoken aloud to a compassionate and attentive listener - who also gives an awesome foot massage, I might add. Now that they're outside my brain, I can see my thoughts and memories more clearly, and I'm left, not without something to say, but with the understanding that the ideas I shared tonight will evolve into something more meaningful than anything I could've rendered on my own. Such is the inspiration that comes from a soulful connection with another human being.

59/365 - Remembering Grandpa Bernie

I couldn't help but think of Grandpa Bernie when I saw the flyer for this event. For those of you not familiar with the restaurant, Zingerman's Roadhouse is an Ann Arbor favorite that boasts "the best comfort food in America" - rightfully so, outside my mom's kitchen, of course. In a couple weeks, the Roadhouse is hosting a dinner featuring a menu of good ole country cookin' with meat from local farms, followed by the showing of a documentary that takes a macroscopic look at the US meat industry. My beau and I are planning to go, and I have no doubt that Grandpa Bernie would approve of the BBQ pulled pork and short ribs and juicy steaks and whatever other savory goodness awaits us carnivores that night. Maybe I'll even learn a little something about Grandpa Bernie's line of work.

My Grandpa Bernie was a butcher and a grocer, and I grew up eating some of the finest steaks and chops at a time when most other families were dining on Spam and TV dinners. I don't eat a lot of meat now, but when I do, Grandpa Bernie gets all the credit for my selection of the choicest and best-prepared cuts. After the pit-smoked hand-pulled turkey reuben I had at the Roadhouse for lunch today, I'm guessing Zingerman's will meet or exceed even Grandpa Bernie's standards, come March 10th. My mouth's watering already!

58/365 - Not your usual coloring book

I was delighted to look up and see this book on the shelf at my yoga studio yesterday. I used to have a copy in college when I was studying Alexander Technique and taking serious stock of what my body was doing - or, better yet, what it was supposed to be doing - when I was playing the flute. I never really got into coloring the pictures, but the book did make a great reference guide when I was evaluating how to breathe more deeply or untie the knots in my shoulders or teach my young students about embouchure. The book got lost somewhere along the way, but the knots sadly remained.

My kids, quite naturally, have been asking a lot of questions about bodily functions and where babies come from, so I was more than happy to replenish my long lost copy of this book. I had just been telling them about it, in fact, and found it to be rather serendipitous to see it right there on the counter when I wasn't even looking for it. I love those moments.

What I wasn't prepared for was the glee from my kids when I pulled it out of the bag and told them what was in it:

"I want to see where the pee comes from!"

"Show me the brain, Mom!"

"What's a kidney?"

"Let me see the muscles!"

"You mean boys and girls have different parts on the inside too!?!"

While, in many ways, it's challenging for my kids to conceptualize the pictures on the page, it is still so much fun to reveal news things and clarify what they probably already knew about their bodies. My hope is that openness and discovery will only encourage them to be more comfortable in their own skin in ways that I'm only now beginning to understand about myself. Who knows, maybe one of them will even be inspired to become a doctor someday.

57/365 - Love is...

...sewing the button back on your coat.

...rubbing your feet after dinner.

...sorting your basket of unmatched socks.

...dancing with you in the living room.

...bringing you mini pies and making the brilliant suggestion that they are good with coffee for breakfast.

...taking you just as you are.

56/365 - New shoes

Hurray for new running shoes! What better way to break them in than on a muddy, soggy trail? Because the shoes were black to begin with, you can't really appreciate the significant quantity of sludge that passed through to my feet. But you know it's a good run when you end up having to clean the dirt out from under your toenails.

55/365 - Happiness

As I lie here now, drifting off to sleep, I can say I am truly happy. "Happy," I'm coming to realize, is not just an emotion, but is a state of being that exists within a humble gratitude for simple comforts, a willing acceptance of the daily challenges of living life with all its frustrations, heartache, and fulfillment, and, most of all, in the vulnerable act of loving and being loved. At this moment, if just this one moment, I can relish the goodness of simply being alive. What a gift it is.

54/365 - One of the reasons I love my job

Every now and then, I make a phone call that changes a kid's world. As an admissions counselor with the School of Music, Theatre & Dance at the University of Michigan - which is among the top five performing arts programs in the country, I might add - I'm one of the lucky ones that gets to share the news, "You're in!"

While I know the part I play is minuscule in the grand scheme of their artistic journey, it's incredibly fulfilling to be part of the process that helps these young kids embark on a path to following their dreams. For some, the call I make is a welcome pat on the back, but it may not be all that earth-shattering if they are sought-after by other major institutions or if UM isn't their first choice school. But for those who have their heart set on studying music, theatre or dance at Michigan, that phone call may be the first glimpse they get of their dreams becoming a reality.

Today, I made one of those life-changing phone calls. Mom answered and, not knowing who I was, was understandably guarded when I requested to speak to her daughter. "Who is this?" she asked suspiciously. I replied with my name and mentioned the University of Michigan as a point of reference. Mom's tone immediately changed, "Oh my god. Yes. Yes, she's here." I smiled and knew, at that moment, this would be a fun one. Daughter came on the line, "Hello." I reintroduced myself and then I gave her my "You're in!" spiel, including some snippets of the glowing comments from faculty just so she knew we really meant it. All the while, I can hear Mom and Daughter squealing hysterically in the background. The daughter manages to mumble out some thank you's and OMG's before Mom snatches the phone away and asks me to tell her the news myself. So I get to repeat it all over again. Mom starts crying, and then Daughter comes back on the line laughing and crying, and I'm laughing and crying right along with them.

And so, for this girl, it really begins...

53/365 - Buttons

I've been carrying these two buttons around in my coat pocket for several weeks now. Tonight, I took them out with the intention of sewing them back on that coat, but I probably won't get to it yet again. I'm choosing to write instead.

As I look at these buttons now on my kitchen table, I see them - not as a reminder of a task unfulfilled - but as a symbol of all the things I'd rather do than sit and sew. They represent my writing. Reading to my kids. Playing my flute. Yoga. Salsa dancing. Spending time with my beau. Sleep.

Yesterday, sleep took precedence over writing. Such is the flexibility necessary for balancing a busy life. Buttons aren't necessary for balance, though they are helpful for keeping a coat closed every now and then.

52/365 - Peace & Excitement

Peace is perfection

when passion meets

this deep breath of air

e're I am with you

51/365 - Bananagrams

Two of my favorite letters.

50/365 - Resolved to write

At the end of a long day, sometimes the last thing I want to do is write. Although I've yet to keep a New Year's resolution before, for some reason I feel strangely obligated to fulfill this one. And so I write a humble paragraph today to uphold my commitment, with the hope that tomorrow may bring more inspiration, if not more time.

49/365 - Friends

I don't include myself in the category of people who buy soy sauce in gallon-size quantities. For my friend who was born and raised in Hawaii and whose step-mom is Asian, however, soy sauce is a necessary ingredient to be kept in bulk quantities in the kitchen pantry at all times. Mix it with some sugar, whole garlic cloves and scallions, and you've got yourself a yummy concoction that transforms panko-breaded, pan-friend chicken and tofu into scrumptious sweet and sour goodness.

Even more gratifying than the meal so generously provided tonight by C and her daughter was the much appreciated time shared between friends. I am so grateful for the few people in my life with whom connection need not be measured by time spent together or topics of conversation covered. It's rare to develop friendships that extend beyond careers, family, playdates, social circles, and, in some ways even, community itself. But when you do, you realize you don't even need to define your friendship by a category at all. You just end up being who you are and you know your friend is too. That's what it's like with C, my loyal and true friend, who feeds more than my hungry kids and adds more seasoning to my life than a whole pantry full of Kikkoman.

48/365 - Not much writing today

When you set your mind to a project, life invariably gets in the way. But then again, if you take the time to notice, life usually also provides plenty of opportunities for you to consider how you want to proceed with said project. With that in mind, I'm chalking this evening up to information gathering, topical discussion, and research. Valuable research.

47/365 - A Title and a Premise

It just goes to show that when you choose to open a door, you usually have a reason to go through it. After yesterday's declaration, it took less than 24 hours for a project to reveal itself to me. I'm quite giddy to begin. Well, giddy and scared shitless, to be completely truthful.

In The War of Art, Stephen Pressfield encourages his readers to identify and overcome the doubts and fears the accompany most creative endeavors - His book, in fact, made a huge impact on my decision to make a commitment to this blog. In one of the chapters, Pressfield challenges us to consider that any inspired creative project that also incites fear in the undertaking is exactly the sort of project we should be undertaking. Based on the level of excitement and perhaps even more trepidation I'm experiencing as I contemplate the premise of my next endeavor, I suppose I should be greatly encouraged.

Today, I settled on a title. My beau offered the perfect subtitle and has graciously agreed to help with the research. I promised him a dedication in return for his assistance. Am I going to share the project with you? Nope. Not just yet. Maybe never. I'll just have to see what comes of it...

46/365 - The Wall

When I made a commitment to writing something every day in 2012, my intention was to dedicate my energy to creative expression on a daily basis. What naturally followed was a desire to share my writing with others - hence, the birth of this blog. After almost two months into this project, I have to admit I'm starting to wonder if the chosen medium - though fairly safe and accessible as it might be - might eventually limit my ability to be explore my writing to the fullest potential. In other words, I'm coming to realize that the greater purpose to which I've committed is writing - not just posting to a blog.

I was talking with my beau tonight about his son's first serious attempt at writing fiction, and I was reminded again that that's an arena I've yet to explore. Of course, every time I consider it, I keep thinking I need to take a class or something to learn how to make something up. It's like when my kids ask me to tell them a story, off the cuff, I freeze and think, "I'm not that creative."

Maybe I am that creative, but I just haven't had the guts to try it. Maybe now is the time. Or maybe now is the time to scratch that itch I've had to write some things that may or may not be meant for immediate public consumption, or to delve more deeply into some projects that will no doubt take more than one day to see to completion - like those two books I've laid the foundations for. Now that I think about it, I'm starting to feel giddy about the possibilities! This must be what runners feel like when they finally get past the wall of drudgery that stands in the way of running simply for the sheer pleasure of it. I think I may have just discovered that the way around that wall - in running or writing or anything else we want to achieve - is quite simply commitment and fearlessness.

I promise you I have every intention of fulfilling the commitment I made, and I plan to continue posting something to my blog every day. I just can't promise what I might have to offer from this point forward. And that, my friends, is very exciting.

45/365 - For my beau's eyes only

Notice: Today's writing is not available for public consumption. I will, however, let you admire the beautiful roses from my beau. Happy Valentine's Day!

44/365 Fairy Valentine

Three fairies came to live in our house about a year and a half ago - They built a door right in the wall near the front hall closet. Every now and then the fairies leave notes and gifts, bringing with them a spirit of wonder every time they leave something on their doorstep for the kids.

The fairies must be busy this time of year, though, because we haven't heard from them much lately. Sophie assumes it's because they're on a very important mission for the Fairy King. Perhaps she's right about that.

I'm guessing the fairies are trying to make up for their recent absence with a little extra attention, because this is the second Fairy Valentine that has been delivered in the past couple days. I hope my kiddos know how much they are loved...even if it does mean the fairies usually end up getting more credit for showing it than Mom does.

43/365 - Salon Sexy

I've been hit on plenty of times before, but not usually while I'm in the process of getting my hair done. I happened to be at the salon today getting a cut and some, ahem, "highlights." The place I go to is a cute little shop along the main drag of a cute little town north of here. Here's a picture from last October, which is the last time I attended to my hair. I figured I would post this shot in lieu of any before and after photos that would prove how gray and long overdue today's visit really was.

Little Shop of Haircuts happens to be right next to one of the town's pubs. While I was waiting for my color to set, I mentioned I hadn't had any lunch and Carla, my stylist, wisely suggested I call next door for some soup or a sandwich. After I called and placed my order, I figured the pub would deliver, but no, I was expected to go next door to pick up my lunch, decked out as I was in a beauty salon cape and my hair all wigged out in foil and dye. Thanks for the heads up, there on that one, Carla.

I drew quite a few stares from the other customers as I sidled up to the bar to ask if my order was ready. As you could imagine, it didn't take much to get the attention of the bartender, but he was completely unfazed by my appearance, as was the case with the two regulars at the bar. How do I know they were regulars? Because the first thing they nonchalantly said was, "Looks like you've been to Carla's." Small town you see. "Sure hope it turns out better than it looks now." I laughed with them and chatted for a bit, which must've been all the encouragement they needed. One of the guys asked how long I had to leave "them foil things" in my hair. When I said, "Oh, probably 20 or 30 minutes," they both chimed in, "Plenty of time to have a drink with us then" and "you can come back later and show us how purty you turn out."

Um, there was a mirror behind the bar. The way I figured it, you've got to be either pretty drunk or pretty desperate (or both) to hit on a woman who looked like I did at that moment. I smiled and kindly said, "Thank you, but I have someplace I need to be." And off I fled, back to the Little Shop of Haircuts to eat my soup and finish getting purtied up.

42/365 - Tree Pose

I happened upon this beautiful image worn into the side of a building - the one just past the massage studio I was attempting to visit for the first time today. I smiled at the artistry of form and felt a kinship I have to all yogis, apparently even to those etched in stone. I also took a deep breath and acknowledged that some of the most meaningful experiences in life can be found when we completely miss the ones we were hoping to find in the first place.

Namaste.

41/365 - Irony of love

Do you see that guy behind the Blue Plate and the bread basket? A real loud talker, that one, as my beau pointed out halfway through our meal. Oh, did I mention that I have a beau? No, I don't think I did. Well, more on that later...

Anyway, Mr. Loud Talker was obviously trying to impress his date, who, since you can't really see her in the photo, could best be described as a Jersey Shore hopeful with a skirt shorter than the length of her stilettos. Come to think of it, LT was probably just grandstanding for everyone else in the restaurant, quick as he was to interrupt poor Snooki and her nasally, like, you know, totally vapid omg "my dadday does that" commentary with his boisterous pretending to be his daddy bullshit opinions on politics, civil unions, sports and the Illuminati of Beer. The poor girl was daft enough to even giggle and nod when we all heard LT attest, "I've done some really shady things and some stuff with women, you know, but I'm not like that..."

I find it ironic that my beau and I were the ones acting like the 20-somethings in our corner booth, attempting to hide our incredulous laughter at the ridiculous display from the next table and unabashedly holding hands and kissing in between giggles. When the hilarity subsided, we looked at each other knowingly, grateful for the wisdom of experience and the intimacy we shared in the unspoken truth of our gaze. When we gazed upon each other again later and articulated that truth in private, it spoke volumes that neither of us would've wanted another soul to hear - least of all LT and Snooki or anyone else in that restaurant. Such is the intensity and sacredness that age knows of love.

40/365 - House Rule

NO SHIRT

NO SHOES

NO PANTS

NO BLOG POST

39/365 - Toe jam

Remember that run on Monday and all the splashing and tree roots and such? Yeah, I did some major damage to my right big toe leaping wildly into one of the puddles. I recall hearing a sharp click and then a clack as my toe slammed into whatever was not, in fact, gooey soft mud under the water. In keeping with the spirit of die-hard trail runners and masochists everywhere, I promptly ignored the pain and kept on running. Barely being able to walk the next day was my prize. Hurray! {Read: "Ow."}

I slept with a bag of frozen peas on my foot last night, and I got some x-rays today, just to make sure the toe wasn't broken. Thankfully, Doc said no fracture, but that I need to rest and invest in a better pair of running shoes.

Duly noted.

Now, which shoes are going to work for dancing tonight?

38/365 - Beat it

I would love to do this.

The T&G #4 and long tones I played today? Baby steps. Tiny, tiny baby steps. It was more like crawling, actually, now that I think of it. But I suppose I could learn to walk again with enough inspiration and time. Lots of time.

37/365 - Lilley Love

We were gifted an almost spring day today, and fate kindly anted up a couple hours off work this afternoon. I originally intended to collect on a sleep debt when I left the office early, but the sunshine and 50* weather conspired with the trails to lure me out for a run instead.

I always push a little too hard on my first real run of the season. It just feels so good to finally get my feet moving on actual earth again after months of pounding on a monotonous hamster wheel - so much so that I tend to run faster and harder and push through more pain. I'll pay for it later, but today, I relished the twists and turns of the changing terrain, jumping over tree roots, sprinting up the hills, and squishing my toes in the mud.

After the snow melt, today's trail was just how I like it - muddy and wet. Maybe actually a little wetter than I might normally prefer, but I wasn't about to complain. My favorite path around the pond was flooded and still frozen over in spots, and it took ankle-deep freezing water for the third time before I determined I would end up going for a polar bear swim if I didn't turn back. Even the usually sandy path with the slow incline was muddy and flooded in places. It was glorious to splash and squash through all of it.

Filthy and wet, toes cold and numb, I finished my run knowing I was afforded a luxury on the trail today. It's not often that I get to enjoy the sunshine and great muddy outdoors on a Monday afternoon in February.

36/365 - Ugly Comfy Chair

I once came home to find Ugly Comfy Chair in my living room, a gift from a dear friend who meant well. Its arrival pitted Cabin Up North flair against the existing Dowdy Plaid Country Home motif, but comfy outweighed ugly and Ugly Comfy Chair stayed.

For many months, Ugly Comfy Chair sat in the corner of the bay windows in the living room, where it became a favorite spot for books and snuggles. In December, when Christmas Tree came back, Ugly Comfy Chair and Not Pictured Ugly Matching Ottoman were moved out to make space. During the holidays, Ugly Comfy Chair took up residence in the playroom, where it still remains, while Not Pictured Ugly Matching Ottoman was banished to the basement.

Sadly, no one ever sits in Ugly Comfy Chair anymore, not so much because it is ugly but because it's in the playroom, where play overrules sitting and snuggling most days.

Doesn't it look comfy there, with the light streaming in from the window? Perhaps I should spend more time in the playroom so Ugly Comfy Chair and I don't have to be so lonely anymore.

35/365 - Choices

I am a single mom by choice. I don't deny it's been difficult living out that choice, but it's one that I embrace fully, taking responsibility for the extra care that needs to be afforded to my kids who didn't really have much choice in the divorce.

The four of us went to Jimmy Johns for lunch today. JJ's is our new alternative to Mickey D's ever since that picture of pink swirly foam has been circulating on Facebook. It really should't be so extraordinary to order a fast food sandwich with real vegetables AND real meat.

As is usual when dining with my kids, I was up from the table multiple times to fetch napkins and drinks, but this time there was a minor meltdown (mine) over a whole sandwich dropped on the floor - real meat and all - and multiple complaints (theirs) that the lemonade that didn't taste like lemonade.

I was already beginning to regret going out for lunch and began plotting mandatory afternoon quiet time when a serviceman walked in, wearing full fatigues. He was ordering lunch, just like everyone else, but the din of the restaurant and my rambunctious kids faded into an awareness that there were other single mothers who, if they had found themselves in my booth in that moment, would notice that serviceman and be reminded of the husband and father they had lost.

Choice takes on a whole new meaning for them, now doesn't it?

34/365 - Texting and Chatting

I don't do LOL

Certainly not LMAO

Won't even consider ROTFLMFAO

Occasionally, you might get HAHA or BRB

But I'm much more into MAO

With xo and a :-)

33/365 - Inspired

Dance....

The most sophisticated form of non-verbal communication.

As an observer, my body yearns to be part of the conversation.

As a participant, I am alive with expression.

32/365 - Korean fare

I've been doing a lousy job taking pictures lately. (Quinn, on the other hand, made up for it on Sunday. While I thought he was playing a game on my phone, he captured 261 pictures of the carpet.)

I really wish I had taken a shot of yesterday's lunch at Be Won, my favorite Korean place in town. For the first time ever, I strayed from my usual Bibimbop Dolsot, which is a mixture of beef, tofu and Asian vegetables served in a sizzling pot of rice and topped with a fried egg. Mmm, mmm. Yesterday, my friend and I tried a couple of the Korean seafood stews, one of which had these tiny beehive-like things that squirted some unknown substance when you bit into it. The rest of the pod was totally inedible, which makes you wonder if it was supposed to go in your mouth in the first place.

Next time we go, we've decided we're going to try the Budae Jjigae, which is a stew made with hot dogs, spam and Ramen noodles, with a few vegetables thrown in to clear the arteries. I just looked it up, and it apparently originated around American army camps following the Korean example during the Korean War. Whaddya know?

Now that I think about it, Budae Jjigae, with all its processed meat and greasy noodles, could be the perfect way to lure my kids to Be Won with me next time. It's about time I start introducing them to some more exotic fare anyway. I'll definitely have Quinn snap a picture or two, hopefully of the Budae Jjigae and not the floor.