Last summer when I wrote the list, no. 77 was a wish item; one of the things you really hope to get done, but you're not certain.
Crossing this off the list less than a year later, is titillating.
When people notice, I'm not modest. Just delighted.
After life in the city, you have expectations about car services. As in, there's always a car or taxi. In our neck of the woods, we've had 'issue' with our local choices, the car arriving 15 minutes early is a good sign.
M was yukoned off to JFK, boarding a flight to London, (and other cities in Europe), gone for the next 8 days. Normally I take the business travel in stride. Sometimes I look forward to the time alone, absence making the heart grow fonder and all. This time, I felt a little sick to my stomach when I had to say goodbye.
My OCD comes out when I'm single parenting. I have these rituals that I perform every night while M's away. When a co-worker commented that I should have some hypno-therapy (this is her speciality) to release these fears, I realized that 1) some things are better left to myself and 2) I'm probably more fucked up than I realize. My ability to gloss things over startles me.
I've always attributed this aspect of myself to 9-11. And it's true, after that day I became a more fear-filled person. Lately, I've been thinking that it's more than that.
By now you're probably wondering, what the hell is Kiki's ritual?
Instead of leaving my purse downstairs, I take it upstairs along with a set of car keys and my day planner. Normally all of these items are left on the first floor.
I have a bag where I keep all the important family papers: birth certificates, passports, important photos and the like. I pull this out, adding a pair of shoes, easy to slip into, and a sweatshirt.
I sleep in the guest room and I have A sleep with me. I never sleep on the 3rd floor where our bedroom is. It's on the back of the house, an amazing feature considering we butt up against a golf course, but it feels isolated. I can't hear anything from the street and I'm disconnected. And if there's ever a reason to leave in the middle of the night, 3 flights up is a long way down.
Clearly a woman with control issues, I worry about the what if's and this ritualizing helps me feel prepared. Certainly 9-11 contributed to paving my road to fearful. I have fears as a mama. The incredible vulnerability. The countless unknowns.
Therapy helped me through the crisis of my issues. Now abandonment and control are compounded into what if's. The recycling of my themes are more sophisticated, cloaked in ambiguity so I'm often surprised when I realize "oh, it's you again".
I'm less fearful than I was. I sleep more soundly and I'm not scared by every creak and sound when M is traveling.
Rationally I know that we are safe. My ritual seals the deal.
Dear driver of the black Honda,
There's a reason New Jersey has a reputation for shitty drivers...YOU! Seriously, what purpose does tailgating serve? Clearly you saw cars in front of me, I had no where else I could physically go.
Perhaps I assume too much in that you were actually observing the flow of traffic in front of you.
Driving up my ass is not going to make me drive faster. In fact you may have noticed, I began to slow down; driving the actual speed limit, just so you'd get a taste of what slow actually feels like.
Continuing as you did, driving ridiculously close, did nothing to change my mind.
Stop behaving like a tool and we can resume a reasonable speed.
Thank you.
I didn't mean to be away this week. I've been looking for a way to put all the words and thoughts, ideas and images into focus and something concrete. Until then.
Standing in line to pay for my lunch, the old man next to me points to my nose ring and asks, "Did that hurt?"
"No, not so much," I reply with a smile.
"You have that in your nose for cigarettes, so you can quit smoking?"
"Actually, I have it because I like it"
And he ponders that for a few moments.
"I went with my daughter to get her ears pierced and I about got sick...did you hear about that woman in the airport, she had sticks through, you know, (he pantomimes a woman's bust), I mean, isn't that sensitive for women, wouldn't that hurt?"
I have to agree.
"How do you wash your face or blow your nose? Doesn't it get caught?"
The man is genuinely perplexed; he sees no good reason to stick metal into your nose.
"Actually, the ring isn't complete..."
"You mean it's not going through your skin?"
"It's going through my skin, but it's flat on the inside, it lays flush."
Shaking his head, he mumbles, "I had to ask", and then he wishes me good luck in life.
Clearly, I'll need it.
wind and sea beach, san diego.
In the spirit of Liz Elayne's lovely project, 5 good things, I thought I'd post 5 really good things in my life right now.
I found this meme this morning, by way of Shutter Sisters, my blog crush of the moment.
why did you start a blog?
I started blogging four years ago, (hard to believe), on a whim. I read an article about Dooce in the NY Times and at first, I was like, "come on, a blog about you and your family?" But I couldn't stop reading. And I really liked the comments - that's how I found most of my first favorites. I started wanting to comment and the rest, is history.
how did you come up with your blog name?
I wanted a play on my being an acupuncturist. And the fact that I can ramble and babble and I need to remember to stick to the point I'm making. Because I didn't know what I was doing, I made my nickname part of the URL; I often want to change it.
do your friends and family know about your blog?
I keep my blog self and my real self fairly separate. Like George Costanza, I don't care for my worlds colliding. My dad and H know about my blog, although they don't read here much. My BFF knows about it and goes in and out of reading. And I have one internet friend from ages ago that used to read regularly, Schultz are you still here? Recently my friend and neighbor asked if I keep a blog and I admitted that I do, without giving away any information. I suppose it's only a matter of time before she finds me.
how do you write your posts?
I do a combo of writing stream of consciousness and then writing posts that I keep in the queue. I often pre-date posts, especially my Friday Love posts. I usually scan multiple strippies and then plunk them into pre-dated posts. I don't have the words, but the images are lined up and waiting.
have you ever had a troll or had to delete unkind comments?
Funny this question comes up. Up until this past Tuesday, I haven't had a troll or unkind comment; an excellent track record I think.
I didn't delete the comments because I wanted to comment back. If you suddenly have a lot of hits in your blog stats from North Carolina, it's the troll.
do you check your stats? do you care how many people read your blog? if you do care, how do you increase traffic?
I rarely check my stats although they've been very helpful this week with the troll. I've had a good laugh when I see how obsessively she's come to my blog, especially when she comes here through google. Other than that, I couldn't care about my stats and I'm not trying to increase my traffic because the more people that read, the bigger the chance of my world collision, which I'd rather avoid.
what kind of blogs/posts interest you?
I love artistic and introspective. I love a glimpse into your world and I love to read a good meme. I like smart and out-spoken and most of all I like passion. A good laugh works like a charm.
what do you like and dislike about blogging?
I love the opportunities I've had to meet and read the loveliest of ladies (and one man), with a wide range of interests and a commonality that I look for in my everyday world.
I don't like the snarky bits of blogging. No good comes from being nasty and karma kicks back; there's always a lesson to learn.
Typically when we do our Los Angeles vacations, we fly Saturday to Saturday. I'm not sure why we deviated, but this last trip had us flying on Friday afternoon. Not even 24 hours, but a world of difference in my opinion (M disagrees), it was nice to have a full weekend this trip. (And it worked out nicely because M's cousin P, flew down for a visit from the Bay Area.)
Always a packed itinerary, this time, we mixed it up. We had a few days on either end where we did nothing and stayed local. The rest of the trip was spent on the east side of town, (with an overnighter down south), not our typical west side outings.
P arrived Saturday morning and after lunch at our favorite Mexican joint, we went downtown. I love my hometown. A shell of what it once was, Manhattan Beach has become this swanky little town, that I still love, it's just different. (if you scroll through the wiki link, you can see how much it's changed).
I think it was a fantastic place to grow up. I love that it was a sleepy community with modest homes and bungalow style cottages. I rode my bike everywhere. I spent my summers on the beach and most of my teen-aged angst was spent gazing out to sea, in the parking lot, to the right of the pier.
first row: H & poppa
2nd row: miss A, the mister and P
At the end of the pier, we saw people pointing and laughing, "look at the dolphins, they're so cute".
Last time I checked dolphins were gray and even-colored. A good zoom lens tells a very different story.
there weren't any gruesome stories about surfers being attacked, so it's safe to assume that the predatory nature of the killer whale is only dangerous to other fish.
On Sunday, me and the rest of Los Angeles, had the bright idea to head up to the Griffith Observatory. (seriously the parking was heinous, yo.) We met my friend R and her family, hoping to see a show at the planetarium (not a chance with the crowds) and instead roamed the museum and grounds.
Peeps, let me tell you, the Griffith Observatory and the surrounding grounds are the bomb. As you ascend, swank-ass houses line the winding road. On your left you pass the sublime Greek Theatre, my all-time favorite venue. You continue to climb and then you spy the observatory on the hill, noting the Hollywood sign in the background. And you are surrounded by woods. Except you're in the middle of Los Angeles. Totally inspiring. Totally my favorite place to hang out; I can already see myself when we're living there in one thousand, four hundred and sixty days, but whose counting?
isn't this cool? i haven't a clue what the exhibition is actually about, all i know is the blue is electrical current.
Next up, my playdate with DeeZee.
It's hard to believe it's already Thursday. We leave in two days and I write those words with a heavy heart.
Maybe it's because it's still winter at home. 28 degree days and more of that damn olive green down parka.
I know it's more than that. It's going home to a place that feels less and less like home.
Don't get me wrong, I love my house and I love my job and I even love our life back east. We've made a nice life for us and I've been happy.
But getting here, coming home, this is what feels right for me. I see the handful of friends and family when I visit and I feel like myself again.
My heart longs to make L.A. my home again and we're figuring out how to make that happen.
We have a 4 year plan. And in the big scheme of things, 4 years will happen in a blink of an eye.
There are things that could make that move happen sooner. And maybe, it won't happen at all.
Which means, I need to make my life back east work for me again, as it has for the last 15 years.
I just need to reconfigure how my days unfold.
Part of this is the transformation that I'm going through. Physically and emotionally, I'm changing and through this metamorphis I'm questioning, which is a good thing.
I sat down here this morning to write a very different post. I wanted to tell you about the hundreds of photos I've shot this week and how excited I am to get home and start editing.
I wanted to tell you about my delicious playdate with DeeZee. How we spent all day Monday together, roaming the east side of L.A., exploring and shooting our way through Silverlake and Los Feliz; two neighborhoods that the mister and I have on our short list of places we'd like to live.
I wanted to tell you about our trip down to La Jolla, how 24 hours alone did wonders for us and gave us the opportunity to really talk about our 4 year plan, (among other things, wink).
Arriving back in L.A. yesterday, serendipity had a way of working its way into our life and now we're looking at our life a little differently.
It's too early to share any of that; we still haven't formulated our thoughts and feelings after receiving news that might or might not shape our future.
Instead, I plan to enjoy our last 48 hours here. We'll visit the California Science Center this afternoon and I'm looking forward to hanging with my friend R and her son T. The kiddies can run and touch and watch, and R and I can continue where we left off Sunday.
I'm not glum and I won't pout when we return. There is much to be thankful for and appreciate about our life back east.
But I'm glad to have a goal, even if it's one thousand, four hundred and sixty days away.
what we're doing on the East Coast.
Putting on my headphones, I walk outside mid-February with a long sleeve shirt, no need for a sweater or even, another shirt. If I was home, I'd have all the necessary winter gear: two shirts, a sweatshirt, a hat and gloves. And I'd still be cold, with snot-sickles frozen around my nostrils, my lips chapped from too many elements blasting me.
Walking, I see lemon trees busting out bright yellow globes; the branches bending with abundance, lemons forgotten on the lawn. At home, one lemon costs one dollar and if you're lucky, it just might be juicy.
Calla lillies grow like forgotten weeds. Gardenias and Jasmine offer white delight to my eyes used to white meaning frost and snow.
Sometimes I wonder why we live so far from family and friends; people that get me in an effortless sort of way. I watch my girl as her face cracks a deep smile, happy to be with papa and H. She shines in a family environment that she's starved for at home, where it's just the three of us.
We talk often of relocation, and then we quickly remember why we're still back east. M and I both have really good gigs with our professional lives, and of course, we love our home.
I'm homesick for Cali, even though I know it's not the right time.
Still, a girl can dream.
