The Top Ten

It's been quite awhile since I have blogged. Don't know why, exactly. It's not that I am at a loss of things to say (as my inner circle would attest to). I think it's more that the thoughts that I do have lately seem twisty, like a snake curled up in an unexplainable way, where you can't determine the beginning or end of it. A month away from everything can scramble you up a bit. But I think that is the whole point, isn't it?

After my month long journey, I've seen things differently, or have been reminded of things I once knew, but got lost in times of busyness, and boredom. Here are some things that I know for sure from my experience:

1. I can do nothing, and it still takes an entire day to do it.
2. It is possible to not think about work.
3. Getting things done has historically been confused with worthiness.
4. Sometimes you must change your course, and frighten others, to be true to yourself (a reminder).
5. There's always a next big thing, and that next big thing can be tiny.
6. They can take everything I have ever done and created, but they cannot take the things I haven't thought of yet (a reminder).
7. Moving forward, detached from details, timing and deadlines.... Liberation exists somewhere within here.
8. Focusing on producing and not on happiness is all kinds of wrong.
9. All the same emotions one can feel while working (anticipation, excitement, producing, accomplishing), can all be felt on a random beach on any day without an agenda or a goal (ask me how one day).
and finally,
10. Not working for one month has been one of the single, most hardest things I have ever accomplished. And I consider it one of my best accomplishments to date.

And a bonus one:
You can fall in love with a fish named Herman.

It was a good trip. I'm not a new person or anything radical like that. I'm still Ms. Workaholic. But the difference is that I now know for certain I don't have to be Ms. Workaholic to still feel worthy and proud of who I am. And THAT, my friends, has made all the difference.

By the way, headed to Bora Bora next.... to work on the next 10.

Make it a great day!

My Love,
Michelle

I Yam Who I Yam

Today I start my month long, personal journey. I am filled with a mixture of excitement coupled with fear. First, I have never taken a month off of work in my entire life. Never. The most I've taken is 2 weeks off at Christmas, which really isn't time off at all. If you recall, it took me "2 Weeks to Peace" last year. At that time, I threatened a complete month off. That time has come. Second, I am traveling alone.

Can this be done? Can I really unplug for an entire month? Will I panic and run to the nearest internet cafe to obsessively check my mail? Will I be able to leave my cell phone in my hotel room when I take a walk on the beach? Am I able to be alone, in my head and in my heart.... am I courageous enough to peek into those places? Don't know. Won't judge myself either way. I yam who I yam and that's who I yam.

My plans are to travel to the Caribbean and do some island hopping......Nassau, St. John, wherever the wind moves me, and whoever has a boat going somewhere. I also plan on returning home to Key Biscayne and hopefully see some old friends. Maybe jet down to Key West for a few days.... who knows.

It's been one hell of a year, I turned 45, accomplished some big stuff, and my son is about to be 18 and is off to China. Off I go, to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

Stay tuned.... I plan on writing a lot while I am gone... I might share some. Don't judge me either way.

Make it a great day!

Mich

An Ugly Number

Ok, so I'm hitting the true mid-life number on Tuesday, and I've been thinking. I've never been one of those people who get depressed by their age milestones. Forty didn't bother me at all. Heck, it was just another day, no biggy.... no weird thing happened to me on that day. I think it's because I kinda see myself as a perpetual 32 year old. Don't know why I chose that number.... but I like 32, it just sounds about right. Say it to yourself.... 32..... sounds like a sweet age, feels good coming out from your lips. You don't even need to use your teeth to say that number. It's a soft number. I have felt 32 for the past 13 years.

Ok, now say 45. Totally different experience, right? You need your teeth to utter that age. It's a much harder number. I don't like saying it. I said it in the mirror the other day, and my mouth area just looked ugly.

For the first time in my life I have been thinking a lot about this upcoming birthday. Why is this experience of turning one year older bothering me? It's a new phenomena for me and I'm confused. I don't feel I look 45 (whatever that should look like). I don't feel physically 45 (whatever that is supposed to feel like). I don't feel like I've captured the wisdom of living half my life (whatever that means).

Hhmmm, I'm perplexed by this. It's not bothering me in like a mid-life crisis kind of way. That happened about a decade ago. Although I will say I am guilty of looking in the mirror and doing that thing girls do.... you know, putting your fingers to the sides of your face and pulling your skin back to smooth it all out. Is my discomfort about looks? Doubtful, since I'm vain enough to admit I've always been concerned about that. Botox is my friend. Nothing new there.

I do feel that I am at a crossroads in my life right now. In fact, it's not a choice of only 2 roads to choose from, there are infinite roads to choose. Noah is on the brink of heading out into his life and leaving the nest. Is my discomfort stemming from the choices that I have in my life now? Perhaps.

I'm gonna keep thinking about this because I don't have the answer to why this year's weird for me. Tuesday I turn the number I don't like saying. And July I take a month off of work to travel alone and reflect. Perhaps when I return in August I'll have figured it all out and be 32 once again.

Make it a great day!

Love,

Mich

An ingredient of My Discontent

I was recently called an ingredient of someone's discontent. Yuk....Didn't really like the way that sounded until I took a little time to pick apart what that really means. As fortunate as many of us are, there are still moments, days, perhaps longer periods when we feel something's off. We can't put our finger on it, really can't name it exactly, so we often come up with what we think is the entree of our discontent. For example, "I hate my work" is an example of what we THINK is causing us our problems. Another example might be, "I don't have love in my life," or "I wish I had more money," or "I wish I could lose 20 pounds." These are easy targets of discontent, or so we think. We believe these things are the main course of our problems, the entire menu of our tribulations. But when we peel back the layers of what sometimes causes us to feel displeasure, we will find the deeper ingredients of the issues. It's usually not related to work, lack of love or money, or the countless other things we use to announce to the world are the reasons for our restlessness or disgruntlement.

All periods of non-peace are made up of much smaller units, the many ingredients tossed in, mixed around, condensed, marinated, perhaps blended, and then served on a silver platter of "meh."

When we become busy, overworked, tired, negligent and complacent, we forget what ingredients we put into our dish of life. We just back hand, hurl in constant stuff, and we forget that one day we will have to eat the result. If we don't take care to vigilantly pick the components that we choose to put into our pot of existence, we end up with a dish that is inedible.

I'm not one for following a recipe at all, I'm just pondering the conscious decisions of what I choose to include on my plate of life.

This Spring, I am dissecting my entrees, reevaluating my ingredients, and hopefully, if I'm lucky and put the work into it, I will recreate an even more beautiful menu, and enjoy an even grander supper!

Make it a great day!

Mich

Italia!

It's 4:40 am on Saturday. I just dropped my son off as he travels to Rome, Florence and Venice. All places I have never seen with my eyes, only in my heart. In fact, I've never gone to any of the places he has visited..... Costa Rica, Spain, Italy, Nicaragua, Alaska, Bali, Tahiti, and the list goes on....

Perhaps I've worked so hard in an effort to give him the opportunity to see all the things I have never seen, although he would argue that point, I'm sure. He's a special young man..... a present from a loving God. In fact, if God made him, God's in love with me.

For Noah this morning.....

You find your way
To write your song
And come what may
I hope you find friends with whom you belong
I said I hope you find friends with whom you belong

'Cuz you'll never know the reason
Why the seas rise and fall
You'll never know the reason
Or if there's a reason at all

Make sure you stay
When you find love in your heart
And as it lights up your way
Don't let your friends fall apart
I said I hope you find friends with whom you belong
I said I hope you find friends with whom you belong

'Cuz you'll never know the reason
Why the seas rise and fall
You'll never know the reason
Or if there's a reason at all
'Cuz you'll never know the reason
Why the sun shines at all
You'll never know the reason
Why we each must one day fall

You find your way
To write your song
And come what may
I hope you find friends with whom you belong
I said I hope you find friends with whom you belong

There Are No Rules Here

I have a plaque on my desk at home that reads, "There are no rules here, we are trying to accomplish something." It's a quote by Thomas Edison.

I also have an engraved stone at the entrance to my house that reads, "Nothing is etched in stone."

There seems to be a theme here. I've learned through observing others and my own, personal experiences, that the less rules and regulations you tie yourself to, coupled with the internal understanding and acceptance that everything can and always changes, makes for a more satisfying, exciting and happy life. When we commit ourselves to arbitrary, self-made (or others-made) and often strict, heavy (and sometimes stupid) rules about how our lives are supposed to be, and at the same time believe that we cannot change, morph, transform these rules when needed, or simply because we want to, we deny ourselves the experience of living fully.

Sometimes we need to break promises (which really is just another name for a rule we set in a moment in time) to be true to ourselves. Emotions change, people grow, situations and experiences present themselves to us everyday, and we must be open to constantly rethinking about what works NOW, at this moment, based on who we are in the present. We should not live everyday with the idea that, "Ten years ago, I promised to feel a certain way about something forever, so I must continue to attempt to feel that way now." Hey, I might not like mint, chocolate chip ice cream anymore. Hence, my divorce 12 years ago.

I've always been a horrible rule follower. Even in my early years growing up, I had a hard time sticking to a set criteria of what was expected of me. I still do. Expectation is just another way of saying a set of rules you SHOULD live by. Expectations change often, and they should, based on what life is presenting to you in the here and now.

Don't get me wrong. I do believe in committing to processes. I'm not an impulsive decision maker, by any means. But I do believe that having strict rules and regulations about my life, limits and restricts my experience of life and all it contains. I want to taste all the flavors of this one life I have. I want to revel in life's changes and grow and morph according to what may present itself, both professionally and personally.

And I will never again commit to loving mint, chocolate chip ice cream forever. Wait, maybe I will, since everything, including emotions and tastes, are always changing. Hhhmmmm.....

There are no rules here and nothing is etched in stone......

Something to think about on this early, lazy Sunday morning......

Make it a great day!

My love,

Mich

The Universe and My Ovaries

Like it or not, I am one of those people who believes that the universe sends us constant messages on living a well balanced life. Often, well the majority of the time, I am a horrible listener. The universe usually starts with subtle messages, little nudges (a flu, perhaps, when you have a deadline to meet, or are expected somewhere important). The message there is to take a little time for you, rest, recharge, stuff will be here when you return, don't worry. For me, that message is soooo ten years ago. Often these nudges to slow down go unnoticed, or ignored, especially when one is as busy as I've been the past few years. But the universe is not one to be ignored, so she ups the ante in the message department every now and then.

In my case, she's gotten so ridiculously frustrated at me, that now the universe has no choice but to throw large message boulders directly on my head to get my attention. Case in point, a few months ago, while sitting in an Outreach meeting with 7 of my Outreach ladies, I began having pains in the chest. Every time I took a breath in, the pain in my chest was just completely unbearable. I turned white, felt dizzy and started sweating. Me (in my head): "OK, maybe if I just sit here for a minute, the sensation will disappear.... I have another important meeting to attend tonight, I have no time for this." The girls (aloud): "Um, Michelle, we really think you need to go to the hospital to get checked out. We're finding the nearest one now."

Those of you that know me, know that I claim to hate doctors, hate hospitals, and avoid them at all costs. One of my very best friends recently told me, 'Michelle, you love doctors, you hate the potential of bad news." I have to admit that he is right. So, I went to the hospital that day. Without boring you with the details, I was eventually admitted for the night, poked and prodded and tested and scanned and imaged and poked again. When it was determined the next morning that I wasn't dying of a heart attack, I announced that I was leaving the hospital. The potential bad news that I was scared to hear did not materialize, so I felt no reason to continue lying there.... I had WORK TO DO that day! The nurse told me I had to wait until the doctor signed my discharge papers before I was allowed to leave. I looked at him, while pulling off the EKG sticky thingys, and said, "Watch me." And I left. Message ignored. Universe now very, very pissed off.

A few weeks ago, I was diagnosed with a kidney infection. Let's just say, they suck big time. The doctor gave me meds, told me to drink a ton of water and to rest in bed for a few days. Me (aloud): REST IN BED???? I'm flying out to San Francisco tomorrow, I have WORK TO DO! So, I started negotiating with him. What if I start the meds today, and in 24 hours if I start feeling better I can go to San Fran? If I start feeling worse while in San Fran, I can always go to a doctor there, it's not like I'm flying to a third world country, right doc? Needless to say, I won the negotiation and flew off to San Francisco the next day. Again, without boring you with the details, it is now 3 weeks later, kidney infection still here and on my second round of antibiotics. Message ignored. Universe is beyond pissed and is about to pull out the big guns.

About the same time the kidney fiasco first occurred, I was also experiencing sharp pains in my lower left abdomen. I didn't tell the doc, because as my fave friend said, "I love doctors, but hate potential bad news." I figured it was just female "stuff"... no biggy... why worry the good doc for no reason. A few days ago, I absolutely had to visit the good doc again, because the pain was getting worse and worse. "You need an ultrasound, and I'll schedule one for you tomorrow" he said. Me (aloud): TOMORROW? I can't go tomorrow, I have a big, big meeting to attend in Huntington Beach! Can't this wait, I have WORK TO DO! I didn't win the negotiation this time and so I went to the ultrasound yesterday and missed the big meeting.

I received the results of the ultrasound last night (by the way, if you ever have an ultrasound and receive a call from your doctor on the same day, it's not a good sign). I don't want to worry you guys, I'm going to be just fine.... it's nothing that a little medical work can't fix. But this time, the message was heard. As I was lying on the couch last night, surrounded by bottles of antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and jugs of water to consume, I looked up at the ceiling and said, "I hear you, message taken, I'm crying uncle, surrendering, slowing down, taking care, you win."

Universe happy.

Look, I don't think I need to tell you the moral of this story. It's pretty evident. I might be good at some things, and had, and continue to have, some great successes and accomplishments in my life, but I often fail when it comes to listening to messages from the universe regarding my rate of activity. I am flawed that way. I think I'm indestructible at times, stronger than I really am, and push myself to ridiculous limits. There's probably some psychological reason I am like this, or some wiring that my parents gave me or something. Don't really know. What I DO know is that it took the universe talking to me through my heart, my kidneys and my ovaries to get me to listen to her (and those are some serious, needed organs).

The work I love will always be there, but if I'm not careful and I continue to ignore the universe, I might not be there to do the work I love. And that, my friends, would just suck. So, I'm slowing it down a tad, taking a little more time for me, my family, my friends, my life, my health. Wish me luck, I hope I can pull this slowing down thing off!

Listen to the universe, and make it a great day!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Tattoo Parlor!

I recently returned from a business trip to San Francisco. It was a successful three days filled with meetings and businessy kinds of stuff. As we often do after a few days of hard work, we decided to do a little sight seeing and blow off some steam on our last night (read - belly up to the bar). I was joined by two of the funniest, adventurous friends I have, who are also my co-workers, which makes the work/play fine line disappear completely (I love that, by the way).

We decided to drive to the Haight Ashbury area of San Fran. For those of you don't know SF, the Haight Ashbury district is summed up in one sentence.... They have yet to realize that The Grateful Dead are no longer there. So, off in our tin box rental car, we head out. First, if you've never driven in San Fran (I hadn't), don't! It's a twisty, whacky, take your life in your hands experience. Can you drive on the trolley tracks? Didn't know, so we did. We found out later that you can. When we asked people what happens when the trolley comes, they all said something along the lines of "you kinda figure it out and make it work." I guess that's a reasonable answer. Can you drive in the bus lane? Apparently not, according to the locals, but we did because heck, if you can drive on the trolley lane and make it work, how hard could it be to figure out the bus thing? And don't get me started on the ninety degree hills and the plethora of one way roads (that's a whole other blog)!

At one point, we were in the middle of a 5 street intersection (I'm talking in the middle of the road with 5 other streets coming at us), without proper directional signage, and my friend who was driving asks, in an appropriate panic mode, "What am I supposed to do, I'm totally confused?!!" The front passenger yells out, "DON'T DO ANYTHING!!!" So, the driver didn't.... we were literally in the middle of a 5 street intersection, just sitting there in panic! Now, I'm in the backseat mind you, and I'm not a back seat driver by any stretch, but I'm sorry, doing NOTHING was definitely not an option! So I burst out, "DO SOMETHING....ANYTHING.....JUST GO!" So we did, and we turned left and conquered impending death.

When I later asked my friend in the passenger seat why she yelled out DON'T DO ANYTHING, she curled her lip a tad and simply said that when faced with a crisis she has to process all options. I will tell you all right now, if you are the type of person that needs time to process and reflect before making decisions while in a crisis.... don't ever think of driving in San Francisco.... you WILL die. In fact, don't process ANYTHING while in San Francisco. Just DO STUFF.... that's apparently what everyone does there. Which brings us to our next adventure.

After spending, what, like 6 hours trying to find a parking space, we finally made it to our destination and started walking. To calm our nerves after our near death experience, we made one of the smartest decisions of the night.... we found the closest bar and had a few drinks (we later discovered it was a gay bar when we returned again that same night.... which made the whole adventure even cooler!). We played silly girl games, like "Who'd you rather" (don't pretend you don't know that game) and cracked ourselves up for a coupla hours. Girls are sworn to secrecy regarding the answers, so please do not call me later to discuss.

It was then, out of the corner of my eye, that I saw the tattoo parlor.......

To be continued.......

Endless Love

Those of you who follow my Facebook activity, probably have noticed that I have been going back in time and posting pictures of old friends. It's been a fun adventure to sift through all the old pics and, like a time capsule, uncovering things that have been long forgotten. Perhaps "things" is the wrong word in that last sentence. The word emotions would be more appropriate, I suppose. Specifically, the emotion of love.

I have been very fortunate to have experienced love many times in my life. Real, raw, delicious, beautiful, aching love. Not only have I experienced love, but I have shared it with some incredible men throughout the years. What strikes me more than anything is how love never diminishes. There is no end to its availability. It's not like a bank account with a fixed amount of love in it, and every time you fall in love you extract a certain sum. No, there is no love debit card.

Someone, thing, God, whatever, keeps the love at full capacity at all times. In fact, there is so much love that you can be in love with more than one person at one time. You can love in many different ways all the time. You can give your love away constantly, and you still have a full tank of it. What a beautiful, endless, flowing river, love is.

Recently, I have fallen in love with the memories of falling in love! Isn't it amazing that that type of love exists too?

Yes, I am grateful this morning for the men who have shared a part of their lives with me. Your love was beautiful, twisty, fascinating, difficult, gorgeous, stunning and perfect, and it made me who I am today. It is my hope that my love for you was worthy of the same sentiment.

Love you,

Mich

My New Best Friend

I've been spending a lot of time in my car this past year. I'm kinda getting a glimmer of what it must feel like to be on tour (except I don't have a driver hauling me from one location to the next, nor do I have screaming fans awaiting me at my destinations (reminder to self..... find some). One thing I do have is an amazing GPS named Jewel. Her voice is clear and concise and a bit sexyish. She's confident, sometimes bossy, and very, very detail oriented. She takes good care of me when I am on the road. Jewel is my companion, my executive assistant, and my new best friend.

We talk to each other often. Sometimes she does say stupid stuff like, "Follow the road." And I respond to her and say something along the lines of, "OK, Jewel, I promise not to drive on the grass or up on that hill to the left." Sometimes she's quite insightful and offers assistance, "There is traffic ahead, would you like an alternate route?" Me: "Why, that would be lovely of you, Jewel, thank you."

She does not like to be ignored, and when I don't listen to her she can get quite bossy. Case in point was yesterday when I missed a right turn she told me to take. I was talking on the phone at the time, and she took the opportunity to get a little surly with me. Within 3 seconds of missing the turn she loudly stated, "Make a u-turn, if possible." I think she tossed in the "if possible" remark because she was holding back saying, 'Make a u-turn, you idiot!" Well, I couldn't make a u-turn, at least not on her time frame. So another 3 seconds goes by and Jewel loudly states, "Make a u-turn if possible." Again, what she really wanted to say was, "Bitch, I told you to turn around twice in the last 6 seconds, what the hell is wrong with you?" Nope, still couldn't turn around. Needless to say this back and forth went on for about another 18 seconds. Finally, I yelled, "Shut up already, I know what you want and I will give it to you when I can!!" All I heard on the other end of my phone was, "excuse me, are you talking to me?" Horribly embarrassed, I apologized to the caller and stated that I was yelling at Jewel. "I thought you were alone in the car" he stated.

"I am" was all I could say.

To finish on a happy note, Jewel always has a way to make amends when we fight. I was on the 405 later that night and out of the blue Jewel says, "Be prepared to continue going straight." I had to smile at that.... she had never said that before. I said to her, "Jewel, I'm on the 405 I HAVE to go straight. What do you mean?" Three seconds later she said, in her sexy, classy voice, "Be prepared to continue moving forward."

I laughed out loud in my car, and said to her, "Yea, let's do that, Jewel. I love you too."

So I say to you, dear reader, from the wise words of my new best friend, be prepared to continue moving forward. Make it a great day.

Mich

Nostalgia

Nostalgic this weekend. The word itself describes a yearning for the past, often in idealized form. It is a learned formation of a Greek compound ultimately meaning "returning home" with some type of pain or ache. I've been looking through some old pictures of my childhood on Key Biscayne, Florida and longing for those easy, free days of youth....

I wrote the following many years ago, when I experienced my very first REAL bout of nostalgia. I'm feeling the same feeling now and the below writing still applies....

There seems to be quickening to search for people from our youth; those who felt with us when we felt a lot, when we were alive, when our heaviest weight was the water that held down our bodies in the ocean. We need these people who remember us free, unrestricted and new; whose fresh eyes looked at our lives and saw possibilities and hope.

The urge to find these people usually hits in the middle years of our stories; after the punch has been told. When we begin to think that our hearts are a bit hardened, and all the emotions we will ever feel have already been felt. Perhaps this is a time in our lives when we realize that at one point we knew what profoundness was, but we lost it or became numb to the sensation of wonder- we closed the doors that led us into the secret world- or the doors were closed for us by time, neglect, and decisions made in times of weakness. It is during this time in our lives, when we often look back and remember the people who started this long journey with us. Somewhere we lost them, took a different path, drifted, as we are supposed to, away from their innocent glances and their shared hearts. Many of us looked forward to the breaking away from our youths, and most of us ran quickly into the mid-section of our lives without a look back, or a hesitant glance in the direction of our past. Many of us did this with good reason, or so we thought, and too many of us forgot so much about how we became exactly who we became. And now, it is us, who require the aching reconnection.

No matter how successful we’ve become, how many toys we play with, how much wealth we’ve accumulated or lost, or how much our minds have become educated and learned… nothing compares to the life found during our early years. You know, the life before we had a life.

I believe that we can never replace or forget the ones who experienced the firsts with us. The ones who held us when we cried with abandon over a failed love for the first time; the ones who laughed all night with us the first time we drank too much; the friends, who for the first time, broke the law together even in some small way; the ones who were the first to be naked and innocent, then naked and experienced with us; and especially the people who loved us when we were bad to the bone and thought ourselves unlovable.

People search all the time for lost loves, lost emotions, lost youths and lost friends. We need this reminder, this reconnection to something much bigger then ourselves, and a remembrance that we are still, in fact, alive and vital. This desperation in the reconnecting is there for a reason. It is felt with force and purpose and it won’t be ignored or dismissed until the reconnection is established. We must still be vital, our hearts tell us, we must exist in some other dimension, some forgotten space of days long ago. We try not to believe that we have become only our roles which we have insisted on becoming during the middle years….We existed once, before the character scenes became reality, and before we believed, and others believed, that we were only what we did. Ah, there was a time when we did nothing,(and did it well) and we existed. Find that again, our hearts tell us….find that now…..find those who remember…..

It is possible that this is a limited experience; limited to those who grew up in small towns, or isolated islands. Where the attractions inside of us were bigger than the attractions outside. Where we walked, barefoot, to nowhere for hours on end. A place where we rode bikes or handlebars to places that had names but no buildings: Shady Groves, Mashta Point, Secluded, Hobie Beach, Sunset…. And the structures that were frequented were merely an accumulation place, a stage, a starting point to begin a journey to nowhere: Sir Pizza, 7-11, the church, Calusa. Perhaps the people that set the stage for this longing are the people who all had nicknames that everybody knew. Not only knew but knew why: Donkey, Smitty, Beaker, Bird, Doc, Shemp.

Maybe when you grow up in a place where the air is thick and hot, and the fragrance changes from sweet gardenia to sun-baked fish before noon, where the wind blows incessantly and the rain visits everyday at 3pm to clean out the air and make the sky clear before the big show of sunset, where water surrounds you like a womb, secure, sheltered, protected from “the others”….maybe when you come of age in a place like this, your senses are permanently tainted by its confidence. And the call to return to her shores is heard as loud as her breaking waves, and her blowing palms.

It is possible that this longing to reconnect with our pasts is limited to a few, but somehow I don’t think that’s the case. There is a reason for reunions, a reason that isn’t clear at anyone’s 10-year reunion. But wait, wait for 20-30 years…and see what happens to you as it approaches. Perhaps it is our mortality that comes into play as we privately seek out our old ties…. Perhaps island living on Key Biscayne had its own rules, its own agenda, and its own requests of us. It wouldn’t surprise me if it did.

I believe that if we are ever able to finally find these people of which I speak, revisit these places etched in our memories, if we can reconnect with the ones who recall our early smiles, our first embraces, our brand new worlds -if we can find them, we find ourselves; our true selves. And, on the right island, with the right music and the right ocean breeze, we can stop time, hit rewind and remember just how we became who we became….

The Parade Has Left The Building

For the past 6 years I have never had a weekend alone in my home. There are the usual suspects milling about... Nicholas (my significant other), Noah (my kid), Mom (who just pops in whenever), and the other usual peeps who don't knock and just waltz right in and make themselves at home. I'm not complaining. It's just part of my life and the way it is round these parts. But last night and today the usual suspects are all away and I have the house to myself. I've locked the door and put a "We're Closed" sign out front. I. Love. This.

Top 5 things about being home alone:

1. I can sit at the computer and not feel guilt (read - I can shop for shoes online without having to close the window when significant other walks in the room.... If caught the conversation becomes this....Him-Which ones are you gonna get rid of in order to fit in the new ones? Me - None of them. Him - They're taking over the bedroom. Me - And your point is?????)

2. I can walk around naked in the middle of the living room, and try on all the clothes I bought yesterday (Girls know that you HAVE to try on your new clothes when you get home!)

3. I can drink the entire pot of coffee and finish off the half and half.

4. I can be alone with my thoughts and write, write write!

5. I'm not required to listen to anyone. (Honey, I love you, but sometimes your presence is like a parade in the house and it is exhausting! You remind me of Tigger from Winnie the Poo!)... I'm not referring to Noah.

ok, there is a sixth one....

6. I can potty with the door open..... don't know why I like that....

So today I will relish the quiet, aloneness of my house and await the parade that returns on Sunday.

Make it a great day!

Mich

Poor Mr. Lost and Lonely

For the past year I have traveled a lot for work. There have been weeks where I have stayed in 3 different hotels in three different cities. Those of you who read my status updates on Facebook, know that sometimes I wake up and can't recall where I am. It's a chilling feeling to arise in the dark in some hotel room and, for a full minute, not know where you are. If you've never experienced that, you're gonna have to trust me that it's really creepy.

When all this traveling began, I thought I wouldn't like it. And at first, I didn't. It was a schlep to pack all my stuff, lug it to the car, trek up to wherever I was going, find the hotel, lug my crap to the room, immediately make the bedspread disappear (do you know how many germs and gross things live on those bedspreads????) and settle in. After all, I was a homebody for almost my entire life. Never traveled abroad, rarely crossed the 5/405 split unless someone needed the hospital (thank god they opened a Scripps in Encinitas), and the thought of driving past Camp Pendleton was my definition of a serious road trip.

And then something changed...... I remember the night it happened. I was staying at the Fairmont Hotel in Newport Beach (one of the swankier hotels I have stayed in....not the norm), after having presented an informational meeting for parents and professionals. I was tired, but restless and amped after presenting, and so I decided to hit up the lobby bar for a nightcap before retiring for the night. I pulled out the chair, sat down, ordered my drink and just watched.

Around me were mostly men, traveling for work probably, like me, all in their 40s and 50s, like me, some sitting together, some sitting alone, like me, and I began to be an anonymous observer. I watched them and I would make up stories about them, I even gave them all names. There was The Senator, The CEO, The Vacuum Cleaner Salesman, The Cheater, Mr. Slick, and Mr. Lost and Lonely. I sat by myself, watching these men (by the way, in all my travels, I rarely see traveling women in the bars... don't know why that is.... it just is) and making up little stories in my head about what they do for a living, what their home lives must be like, and what their inner issues were. You could tell things about them by what they wore, how they talked and moved, and how their eyes looked. Or at least I thought I could. Mr. Lost and Lonely had tassels on his shoes and had to be from the Midwest, he was missing his family terribly, hated his job, and didn't have enough money to make any changes in his life. He drank 3 beers, probably would have preferred 3 double Dewers, and he left the bar with his eyes to the floor, shuffling his tasseled feet. Stuff like that. Poor Mr. Lost and Lonely.

These guys were anonymous to me. And then it occurred to me that I was also anonymous. I could be anyone when I traveled. Maybe they were making up stories about ME! I started thinking about anonymity and the ramifications of being a stranger in a strange, new place. Depending on how you looked at it, being anonymous could be kinda cool. There, at that bar, in a new town, I wasn't a mother, a daughter, a girlfriend, a boss, a friend, a partner, a business owner... nothing! I had no identity. I was a blank canvas. At THAT moment there wasn't a single thing that was expected of me except to continue sitting there sipping my drink and amusing myself with stories of weird men. It was a freeing feeling in a sense... to be anonymous...to be no one, to be blank. I was a stranger. I was a traveler. I was alone in a new city, in a random hotel at a bar, and I felt free. It was a feeling of youth in a sense. Remember that free feeling?

I finally understood why someone would want to put a backpack on and travel the world (that has never been on my "to-do" list), but now I think I get it. People who travel are strangers and anonymous. They are free or at least searching for that freedom. They are blank, ready for anything, without any preconceived ideas or agendas. Don't get me wrong, I'm not comparing a world backpacker to a traveling business person, they are two completely different breeds, but I am saying that, on a relative level, there is something to be said for being anonymous and being a stranger. It's a tad exhilarating, a little risky, and somewhat freeing to be in a new place, without knowing anyone and being ok with that.

I won't be putting on a backpack anytime soon, trust me, but I now travel with a new sense of freedom and autonomy. I currently travel with a teeny bag that I toss effortlessly into my back seat. I never unpack my bathroom bag when I am home, I just grab it and go. I make special playlists for my trips up the coast, and I look forward to reaching my new hotel, wherever it may be (oh, and it must have a bar). I've now found a little freedom, joy and youthfulness on the road. It's all how you look at things. Kinda cool.

Two Weeks to Peace

My usual early morning emotional state is pretty consistent. I wake up in a semi-state of panic, either from having a nightmare about work, thinking about my work schedule ahead, or feeling like I forgot to attend a meeting or forgot a deadline or something (kinda like those exam dreams when you never make it on time or forget about the damn thing altogether). It's been like this for many years. My shrink would probably say (well, he did) that this was an unhealthy way to start my day. In the beginning I believed him, but now, well, I've gotten used to it, and that "start your anxiety engine now!" immediate feeling when my eyes open has become my norm. It even happens on weekends and vacations. It's how I know I'm awake and it's a new day. No biggy.

But it didn't happen this morning. It's Sunday, the day before I return to work, after having two full weeks off. I am confused. I woke up this morning AFTER the sun came up, feeling rather (can I say this?) peaceful. No panic, no anxiety, no scary work dreams. No middle of the night new grand ideas to jot down, no needing to jump immediately out of bed to check my daily calendar. And to top it off, my coffee machine, which is normally set to automatically brew at 6am (I typically manually over-ride it at 5), already had fresh coffee waiting for me!

Hmmmmm..... What is THIS feeling? Is this how other people (read - normal) start their day? What is different about THIS morning? Am I loosing my edge? What did I eat for dinner? Needless to say, I began to semi-panic that I wasn't semi-panicking. And then I stopped semi-panicking..... because I could.

And now that I am writing this, it's occurring to me that it has taken me 2 full weeks of not working to begin the process of resetting my brain. Those who know me know I love my work, love the people I work with, and know that I have found my life's purpose in my work. But this new feeling this morning????? This is pretty damn cool!

My schedule over the last few years (2 decades?)has been hectic (my son would say, "insane", but that's another topic). I have not stopped moving, thinking, doing, producing, shipping, creating or fixing, in many, many years. I'm not complaining, just stating the facts. If it's taken me two full weeks of not working AT ALL (and that's also another topic), to begin to feel somewhat peaceful in the morning, imagine what a month off could do! This has the potential of me reaching a Buddha-like state in the mornings! Can I even allow my mind to go there?

The answer is yes. For those of us who have thrown ourselves into our work, who have loved our work, who sleep and dream and wake with our work, the need to reset our brain every now and then is imperative, and a weekend or even a week won't do it. It apparently takes a lot longer. I don't know this from experience, mind you. I only know this based on my last hour of being awake and the resetting that has begun. So take it for what it's worth.

Tomorrow I return to work. But today, I will thank my vacation for this morning, and the reminder that there is always another way, a slower way and the possibility of peace in the mornings, complete with pre-brewed coffee!

Oh, and by the way, just giving my work family some advanced notice.... I will be taking the month of April off!

Michelle

To Blog or not to Blog

First, I need to say that I really don't know what blogging means. Who made up that word? I suppose I could Google it and find out, but I prefer for it to remain a mystery to me. "Blog".... the word itself sounds lazy, as in he's a big, fat blog. Or it sounds like a big booger, like I just pulled a big blog outta my nose. In any case, here I am with the BLOG open and getting ready to blow out my very first one.

If blogging means to write things of importance to people, things that will have deep penetrating meaning to others, then I will not be following the rules. I really don't have much to say, and probably no one will ever read this anyway. But I am going to consider this a personal diary of sorts and just go for it. For me. And because I just like the word BLOG, which I can now use as a verb, "Of course I blogged today".

It's currently 6am on New Years Day. This means one of two things... Either I am still awake from the New Year's Eve festivities of last night, or that I went to bed early and just woke up. Those who know me know which answer is correct, but it really doesn't matter. The fact is I don't sleep much. Which is fine, really. I like the stillness the middle of the night offers, and I enjoy the quiet of the early morning. I get my best work done before 8am on most days, and I get to introspect without interruption. Which is what I am doing this morning.... introspecting.

The first sunrise of 2011 hasn't occurred here yet. I am waiting for it. So, I figured I would contemplate what changes I want to make in 2011 and then tell the sun once it sneaks it's head into my window. I'm not one for resolutions. I'm a smoker.... nuff said.

Here are the changes that I am going to attempt in 2011:

Be a better friend. I refuse to allow my lack of leisure time to interfere with my friendships. I allowed that in 2010 and it didn't go over well.

Spend at least one night per week having dinner alone with my son. He's off to college next year and we haven't spent enough time alone together. There are always people milling around.... all those pesky people.

Write more. Already started right here! I feel soooo successful already!

Give up Diet Coke. .... yes, I just wrote that! Actually, I'm on my second Diet Coke-free day! Had only one headache so far, and promptly remedied that with some good pills. I've had a serious Diet Coke addiction for many years. The 21 year old "Director of Wellness" on the cruise I just left told me a plethora of facts regarding what Diet Coke is doing to my body. I didn't believe her skinny, beautiful, blond, 21 year old self, and still don't, but I decided to give them up anyway (Little miss London had absolutely nothing to do with my decision!!!).

So, there you go! I can handle 4 changes for 2011. I am NOT resolving to do any of them. I am simply not that determined. But, I will attempt to change these 4 things to the best of my ability in 2011.

And for those of you who might be wondering why my BLOG is called "Feed Me Please"... well, that might be the next topic I write about. Who knows where this will go.

By the way, Peter Merholz coined the term BLOG in 1999. It is short for Web Log coined by Jorn Barger in 1997. I couldn't help myself.

Happy New Year and may the year ahead be good to you!

Michelle