Getting Sick at Wicked: An Instagram Post

We saw half of Wicked in October. Of course we dined on TD too. I will branch out and share more Seattle restaurants someday, but mom is awfully behind.

We drank at Seatown then splurged at Etta's. And got coffee at Top Pot. Then I drove around the city and got lost. Oh the embarrassment.

TD was even served at the theatre. I should have known that. I'm losing my edge.

We had the best seats ever. Then she left before Popular. How tragic. But returned before Defying Gravity.

She got sick and we left afterwards. It's okay. Im not the one who cant eat at TD anymore.

Tight Chest

Somedays are worse than others, we all know that. Sometimes for big reasons, like disasters or real pain. Others because you're a minute behind the day and can't seem to find your footing. Today started out happy, dancing in the car, became a little too stressful than I'd hoped, then lulled into the ordinary. The rain is back and will be around til the end of Spring. But is return dissipates winter smog. Bulbs will soon grow and birds will sing sweetly.

Everyday is different and yet the same right now. Finally. I've yearned for the time when he comes home and we just sit around. I threw my hands up in bed last night and screamed, "this. Is. Awesome. We are finally here. We can do what we want. We can eat nachos for dinner."

It is a constant reminder in my head to be grateful now. To be patient. And to consider the reason behind each word--mine and yours. When something stirs me up, gets my blood boiling, I have to stop, listen, listen inside of me and hush. Remember something beautiful. Read something inspiring. Push that lump and that knot in my torso away and find something else. A chance to learn. A chance to pray. A chance to teach with action.

That makes the difference in between.

While on the Topic of Notepad

While living with my parents for ten months, as a newlywed couple no less, was not ideal, we started to make it work.  I surrendered our laundry situation to the high heavens, forgot about what items I owned and lived off of what was necessary, and on most nights rested comfortably with my husband and our two, selfish, gigantic, labs.

Then, as if a light bulb went on in our heads, we had a wonderful idea.  Spend some of that money that we are saving because we don't pay for much of anything, and go away.  Two days at a time.  Just disappear.  Live it up.

Our final trip, before K's marvelous job landed in our life and we found a beautiful rental, we travelled to the Edgewater.

He picked me up after work.  I ran to his car, changed out of scrubs in the back while we rode the ferry, and found ourselves at happy hour at Six Seven some 60 minutes later.  The water on one side of us, a half off menu on the other.  That night he watched football while I took a ridiculously long, hot shower, washing whatever stress the day produced down the stone drain.

The train rode past at least every hour.  The city was alive. I was happy that we had a skyline view rather than a water view.  I see the water all the time.  Seattle itself is a once and awhile treat.  High off of the opportunity, and getting drunk off of red wine (that hurts so much later), here is what I produced.


The city at my right hand.  A glass of red wine in my left.  We are lucky.  The city is still mine, more than ever before.  Not meant truly for the 21 year olds, but those later in life who are open fully to its gifts and promises.  It's my first love.  My  current lover not jealous, open to share.  No kids, no mortgage, limited responsibility outside of work.  This is what we want out of life right now.  

These are our rebellious year.  Red wine in a rock glass, terry cloth robe on, and that big red E that has been tempting me for so long.  I'm back.  I'm home.  Let's explore.  You are mine, Seattle.

We are staying put longer than expected.  Learning to live without our "things". Memories stored in our heads not that blue box.  Parents happy.  Dogs happy. Getting to cook for four.  And doing this once and awhile.  

We adapt.  I to PA. He, here.  We to our situation.  Adapt and learn to be grateful.  No one situation is ideal.  No ones.  It's whoever learns to appreciate,who ends out coming out on top.  

That air.  Oh that air.  My oxygen. So attached to memories which I don't even remember.  


I don't know what made me stop there.  I probably spilled the wine or another trained passed.  Looking back, it's almost as if I released our problems into the universe, and it came back with a solution.  We have been in our new place for a few weeks now.  Nights in the city are now on the back burner.  Money spent on hotels is now being saved for necessities around here.


Its all important.  Its all good.  The opportunity to stay with my parents brought blessings.  Moving a half an hour away will have its own too.  We are given exactly what we need in life, we just have to realize it.

These years are still rebellious.  I plan on making them count.

I Will Do Better

I already deleted the post that I started two Fridays ago.  It seemed silly. Boring.  Weak.  And that makes me frustrated and exposed.  I don't want to write if its going to be meaningless and read like one is reading from a high school journal. While I took a break, (of what? a month?) I went back and forth with whether I should pick this up again.  No, I would think.  Everyone and their mother has a blog now.  Its not a serious thing to do.  You look stupid, I would say.  Is there anything important that you need to share?

But then I would catch myself.  In the car, repeating memories in my head, lucky to remember their little moments and wishing that I would always hold onto how they made me feel.  Then there were the times which were so mundane, yet a life revelation would pop up.  Something simple, but profound.  Maybe I wrote it down on a piece of paper, but that scrap is long gone now.  These little examples showed me that yes, I have something to say, if not only for myself to read later.  And of course, everything changed in such a significant way last month, and all I wanted to do was write, to share, to reach out to this blogging community, to convince others to love as much as they could, to connect and show how we are all similar, and to inspire you to share your story better than I could.

Boxes were in the process of being packed and the computer was just too overwhelming to try and fix.  So I typed furiously on my iPhone, even though I despise the font used in notepad. And even though it looked like way more on that tiny screen, it speaks more to me now.

We may have a lack of faith in humanity now, but what we really need is to have more confidence in ourselves.   I wrote.

Sure, there are more outlets to display what we think and how we can stand up for what we believe in, but underneath we are still scared.  Why don't we have more faith in ourselves to change? To love more. To use our gifts.  To reach out and be the best that we can be.  Not for success or fame, but for the betterment of our world.  

I have to write.  I have to remember and I have to push myself to be great.  I have to write more so that I can write better.  I have to be consistent and I have to not give up.  This is a part of me now, whether its a shitty too many paragraphs or a brilliant sentence--there's no going back.  A month off was just enough time to realize what blogging does for me.  There may be a piddly amount of comments and who the hell knows who's stalking instead of enjoying this.  It doesn't matter.  I blog for me now and that's all I can guarantee.