I've been taking an on-line writing class recently to motivate and hopefully inspire and build confidence in myself to move further along with this writing thing that I've somehow stumbled onto over the past year.  Our most recent assignment was to take an important photograph, look at it for awhile and then write a "photo essay" showing the picture through words.  This is what I've come up with and a small glimps into something much, much bigger.  

It was Thanksgiving Day and Aunt Margie, my cousin Little Becky (although fourteen years older than myself) and I were taking a much needed break from tearing down and boxing up the remains of my aunt's life. Aunt Becky had passed several weeks prior to our coming together, in more ways than one, in so-called "sunny Los Angeles, California."  This particular day, we had come to share and visit Becky's home where she had lived most of her time in LA prior to the earthquake, and were retracing her steps and life through Santa Monica to give thanks and to say goodbye.

CLICK.
Photo captures moment. Still; At rest. As if by magic or some sort of voodoo. There are cultures that believe that a photograph captures a part of one's soul.

Holding a cup of Starbucks coffee, I am perched in one of the many winding and twisting trees which line the park blocks along Ocean Ave. The only color that I am wearing besides the simple black pants, jacket and white shirt is the long leopard print scarf holding back my short hair which is in that horrible growing out stage. My expression, soul captured, reveals my loss, but the forced smile is for the sake of memory.

This particular tree has a name. It's called "My Favorite Tree."

A young girl of the age of seven gave the tree its rightful name twenty years prior during a summer visit from an exhausted father raising his child alone. This was a much needed break for him, and the beginnings of an education of "the finer things in life" for me, even if my understanding reached only as far as the kumquat tree which bore a single fruit each morning on my aunt's balcony overlooking the ocean. The seed was still planted.

Aunt Becky, Uncle Lyle and I would walk along these park blocks which were sandwiched in between Ocean Ave. and the incredibly steep cliff leading down to the ocean every single day. We would walk, and stop… and they would wait as I climbed every tree worthy, every fixed statue or feature, every new challenge and every new discovery. Years would pass before I fully understood the gift that they gave to me of love and patience. Several more years would slip away and my father would still answer the phone with an enthusiastic, "Hi Monkey!"

Twenty years had passed, along with both my aunt and uncle and here I was again. I had just walked out of my job prior to my trip to LA and more or less walked out of my entire life. Unfocused and depressed (labeled as manic by my therapist who dropped my like a piece of plastic off of the conveyor belt of life,) the seedling planted swayed unstably, wanting more. Wanting nourishment, roots, and firm ground. Yet, not knowing how or where to find these things. Little did I know the transformation that was already happening. Little did I know, that at that moment, I was right there... where I was supposed to be.

And so I'm doing a little bit of back blogging because this past handful of weeks have been like a whirlwind of events and emotions all leading to this point.  So is the way of John and my life.  We have a little further to push on and then there should be a chunk of a break until the next set of events come to play.

Mid-June John's father came to town for a week's visit.  It's always good to have family visit, especially when you have a new house to show off that includes a spare room.  It was mostly a relaxing trip for all of us, but there were a few fun excursions as well.

We took dad on a father's day champagne brunch cruise down the Willamette.

Something John and I both really enjoy.

...and while he was in town, John and I bought two new scooters to zip around Happy Valley on.  Pictures will come of these.  All I can say is that mine is PINK and VERY VERY CUTE!!!  Although there is a "Stella" Vespa out there, I can't help but believe that her name is Stella.  PINK, GO FIGURE!  We've only had the chance to take them out twice since we got them, but I seem to be a natural.  John had me on it and told me to just give it a little gas with the brake still on to "get the feel."  Well, a single minute after I "got the feel," I let go and was cruising all over the neighborhood!!! 

The next very exciting thing happened this past Friday.  John and I woke up at 2:30 am to catch a plane to Denver.  TY AND BERNADETTE GOT MARRIED!!!  They finally did it!!!  And we were fortunate enough to be there to help celebrate!!!

The Happy Couple!!!

Over the past four years, Ty and Bernie have become not only John's best friends, but mine as well.  Words just can't measure up to how incredibly much these two mean to me.  When you try to describe what the phrase "good people" means, Ty and Bernie are the one's that quickly come to mind.  As I said during my part of the toast, "I have never felt anyone has been more kind, more accepting and more understanding than by these two."  I love you both oodles and oodles!!! 

BFF FOREVER!!!

and so I wish Ty and Bernie all of the goodness, love and happiness in abundance that life can bring.  Congratulations to you both!  And yes, after a two year engadgement... it's about time.  We've ALL been waiting for this.  :)

John and I arrived back in P-town that same day a little after midnight after a quick stop in both Phoenix and San Francisco.  One day, four planes, four city's, one wedding.  Unfortunately we only got Starbuck's mugs from Denver.  (We collect Starbuck's mugs from each city we visit.)  With a little recoup time, we are now onto phase two.  The reception which John and I are hosting this weekend! 

Bachelorette parties are a heck of a lot of fun!!!

or maybe it's just celebrating one of my very favorite people.

This is Bernie (Bernadette) who you have met before. 

She's getting married this coming Friday and oh boy is it ever so exciting!!!

That boy (man) she's marrying is another of my absolute favorites.

Whatever the case, posting this is quite a challenge after drinking the pink stuff.

To my biggest love and the most important person in my life!

Friends, I would like you to meet Darlene...

I know that it's a little late for this post, but over the holiday's I stumbled onto this blog that I NEED to share with you.  I originally followed her sister's blog, but one day boho (the original bloggie) had a post about the unfortunate events of her sisters son who had been in a horrible car accident.  Now ya'll... this kid is a strong willed mf and carried himself practically ripped in two back to the street where he could call for help. 

I have easily gotten caught up in the days with this family and LOVE them with all of my heart.  Not only with them, but with the amazing community that has developed in support of her son Mark's healing.  It fills my heart to see the love, empathy and support given to these "strangers."  But as involved as I have gotten with them, I understand.  THE WORLD IS GOOD!  PEOPLE ARE GOOD!  THIS IS A TRUISM!  I BELIEVE THIS!

I share this with you in hopes that you can send out your own prayers, and healing energies as well.  This guy has made incredible leaps and bounds.  But still has a ways to go...  But in my own mind, I see him as well and whole.  He is a miracle... and as far as I'm concerned... THIS is what living is all about!

YA MARK!!!  YOU ARE OUR HERO!!!  You are a living example of all that is RIGHT in the world.  May your long life be filled with health, prosperity and abundance and may you share your story to all who will listen to inspire and heal others as well!!!

You are Strength

Courage, strength, fortitude. Power not arrested in the act of judgement, but passing on to further action, sometimes obstinacy.

This is a card of courage and energy. It represents both the Lion's hot, roaring energy, and the Maiden's steadfast will. The innocent Maiden is unafraid, undaunted, and indomitable. In some cards she opens the lion's mouth, in others she shuts it. Either way, she proves that inner strength is more powerful than raw physical strength. That forces can be controlled and used to score a victory is very close to the message of the Chariot, which might be why, in some decks, it is Justice that is card 8 instead of Strength. With strength you can control not only the situation, but yourself. It is a card about anger and impulse management, about creative answers, leadership and maintaining one's personal honor. It can also stand for a steadfast friend.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Thank you my angel baby!

...even more so thank you to god and the universe!

Let me begin by saying that I refer to my life in two distinct time increments referred to as BJ and AJ… that is, Before John and After John.  My life and I have changed THAT much since his arrival on the silver platter into my arms and life.

Before John… I lived for several years in a two story four-plex in S.E. Portland located in the heart of the Clinton Street district.  I loved this little apartment of mine.  People came and went with periods of shared time and space while I lived there, but it was always mine at heart.  The only problem with the place, besides the need to maintain a constant supply of maximum strength Drano, was the fact that it did not include a washer or dryer.  This wouldn’t pose a problem since, at the time, there was a laundry mat right down the street… which has since turned into a Wild Oats or something, BUT… for the first many years of living there, I did not own a car. 

P-town has an extremely worthy public transportation system which I have relied on for many years.   Well, the mornings that I actually got my depressed, insomniac ass out of bed on time.  These days I thrived and rejoiced on the many dollars I saved because I did not call a cab.  By time I was actually driving, the cab drivers in town not only knew me by name, but would ask personal questions like, “How’s the boss’s son doing?” 

Once a month or so, I would call for a cab… unless of course I shared a visit with one of my neighbors and close friends, and ventured off to the local laundry mat.  It was always a humiliating experience to fill the trunk, nearly overflowing with dirty laundry, and head on down the street.  You have to do what you have to do, right?  I would usually reserve Friday or Saturday evening for this monthly, sometimes bi-monthly, ritual for several reasons.  One of course was to minimize the humiliation.  Another was the fact that I could almost guarantee an empty place where I would take over and rein for the next several hours.  Once I arrived and unloaded… I was queen!  It became this game, this challenge of filling load after load.  I would spend no less than fifty dollars changing my cash for magical coins that would operate the cycles and produce another months worth of clean clothing, towels and bedding.  (The owner once told me that I was his best customer.) 

Did I mention how often I ran to Freddy’s, our local one stop shopping extravaganza, for a cheap pack of panties to get me through another week?

Once my loads, and we’re talking like twelve to fifteen here, were filled the first would soon come to an end, and the drying cycle would then begin.  Running back and forth from machine to machine, trying to maintain a rhythm, not breaking for a single moment.  And of course, then the reloading of the bags would finally come, with the call to my driver to end the at times overwhelming and sometimes rejoicing experience.  I would arrive home exhausted, plop down on my bed and begin to fold.  There was no greater happiness than for Monday morning to come, and I would once again have my choice of what to wear knowing that "the pretty panties," the ones that made me feel really good, were hiding underneath. 

And then there was Light!  I mean John!

We bought a house together one day while out having coffee and reading the Sunday paper.  This house came with a fairly new, beautiful, washer and dryer set.  You could hear the angels singing down from heaven above in awe and glory at the sweet moment of realization that I would no longer have to spend those lonely nights at the laundry mat.  Wait, I take that back… I was too busy and determined to be lonely. 

And so I do the laundry.  I LOVE DOING LAUNDRY.  John, my sweet husband, has mentioned more than a few times somewhat jokingly that we need to hire people to do our laundry.  During the past year John and I have yes, gotten house cleaners, and I am now looking into a poop scooping service… but I will fight to do laundry.  I yell out… “NO!  You don’t understand!  I WANT to do the laundry… honey!” 

Well, it IS Saturday night, and after about a month's worth of weekend travels, John and I are home.  What do you know, I’m doing laundry.  Ever time I do laundry, I inevitably fine this little white button after emptying the washer.  It’s always the same button, and for whatever reason it makes me happy.  I pick it up, and then put it back into my pocket to be lost and found again the next time that I do laundry.  I just finished a load and went to put in another.  As I took the load out, I found a white balloon… and then another… and then another!  I didn’t find the button, but I found that our sweatshirts were having their own celebration of sorts which in fact included balloons!  This indeed put a huge smile to my face and even brought forth a little giggle.  See, laundry actually can be fun!  …LOADS!

These balloons came from a secret night excursion that included both my husband and I.  You see, our neighbor Doug, who I have come to know and adore, just recently went to Reno with his newly found love Donna where they were married.  There are no two individuals, other than John and I of course, who are more right for each other, and are accepting to the love that so graciously shined down on them.  I’m talking full glaring, needing of serious ultra violet shades, holy sunlight you have to squint to survive kind of light.   They fill my heart with love just to be in their presence.  Whatever the case, they were arriving back from Reno, and John and I sabotaged their house with balloons, streamers and as many words of love that we could fit into small chosen areas. 

The excess balloons somehow ended up in the pouch of my husband’s sweatshirt, which then ended up in the wash, which I ended up finding, which brought back a flood of memories, where I ended up smiling.

Congratulations Donna and Doug!  I love you BOTH!!!

How can you put words to such events that rip our hearts apart and push us to the limits of our own knowledge of acceptance and understanding?  Ken is one of my very favorite people, and although I have never had the opportunity to meet his sister Kim, I'm sure if she was anything like Ken, she'll be surely missed.  Death is always hardest for the people you leave behind.  For a moment Ken, allow me to lift you and your family to a place of peace and serenity. 

World,

Image on water, waves

Break and it is gone, yet

It was

-Kathleen Raine

Please take a moment and to look at Ken's wonder filled memorial dedication to his sister by clicking on the highlighted "Ken" above.  Take a moment and send out loving and supportive energy to him along with his family.

These are the words sent to me today from my Aunt Margie...

I miss and love you!

       This is me with my very, very best friend in the world Angela on my wedding day. 

I am excited to share that I was lucky enough to spend almost the entire the day with her today!

The funny thing about it though is that we didn't take any pictures.  Hence the pictures from John and my wedding day.  Cameras in hand, not one.  This always happens.  I have so very few pictures of me and my bestest.  I suppose like girls do, we start talking and the next thing you know it's time to say goodbye.  That or we're so exhausted from catching up with each other that by the end of the day we're just crashed out catatonic on the couch unable to do anything but follow the words to the storytelling television.  This time it was Narnia.      

Angela and I met around ten years ago?  Around that...  We both took an evening drawing class with Julia Stoops at PSU.  That was the beginning of the end.  The beginning of the best friendship I've ever had, the beginning of the end of a lot of other bullshit.  How she put up with me over the past ten years is astounding to me.  But I have to admit there is a small handful of others out there that have done the same.  Things happened like when I was living in my apartment I didn't pay my electricity bill, and so the electricity went out.  Now the person I am... Since I didn't have the money at the time to pay the bill, I set up the tent.  No big deal.  I put the tent up with sleeping bags, lanterns, thermos of coffee, candle outside to replicate a fire.  Great times, right?  Well, when Angela showed up to spend the weekend with me, she just wouldn't have it.  She had PGE at my apartment turning the lights on within a half hour.  When she moved to Florida the "mothering" didn't stop.  I would get daily morning phone calls to get my ass out of bed.  Hmmmm.... Or the time when I was talking to her on the phone when she was living in Seattle, and I complained that I just couldn't get my apartment cleaned.  By time I came home from work, she was already there with the place half done.  

The funny thing about this mothering was that it went both ways.  Sometimes she was the mother, sometimes I was.  But what never changed was that we were always there for each other.  And this relationship has continued like this to this day.  Well, now that we're both a little older and married, the mothering has somewhat stopped.  Advice and listening is still there, yes... but it's a little different. 

Angela met a great guy (wonderful, sweet, smart, handsome) about two years ago that stole her heart away. 

Rodney...  They married in September and moved to North Carolina shortly after.  Now, North Carolina is a long distance away from Oregon.  (said with a heavy sigh.)  The fact that she is so happy with this man makes everything acceptable with me.  Rodney loves this girl, and treats her like a queen.  This goes visa-versa where Angela just adores her man.  But again, getting to the point, she now lives in North Carolina.  Did I happen to mention that it's pretty far from here?  So we don't get to see each other very often which is why I was so thrilled that I got to spend the day with her today.  We did girl things like got pedicures, rode with the top down in the convertible, and drank coffee outside in the sun talking ourselves exhausted, all of the things that don't equate to the rest that I'm supposed to be getting right now.  (BAH!)  And let me tell you... it was THE perfect day! 

So Angel Baby, thank you for the huge gift!  It couldn't have come at a more perfect time.  Today, I honor you and I honor our friendship.  I love you!

Today is my fathers 70th Birthday!

For those of you who are not in the know, my father is my absolute hero.  There is noone that I respect and look up to more than him.  Aside from my husband of course, he is everything to me.  My parents divorced at an early age in the early 70's when divorce wasn't as common as now, let alone the father raising the child.  It was just me and dad for many years, and I am so thankful to him.  The bond that the two of us share is a crazy one... that I just don't see often between parents and their children.  I love my father so much that I chose to move across the country to try to become less dependent.  At 32, I have to admit that I am still emotionally dependent on my father.  The love that he has for me and I have for him is a great love.  One that I've experienced from my husband as well.  I feel that I am extremely fortunate to have experienced and share this kind of love.   

 This is my father is Vegas from his trip this past November where John and I surprised him.

My father taught me the most valuable lessons in life from how to tie my shoes to the many wise sayings like "A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step."  He taught me that "all people shit on the same pot."  and many more.   

This is my father and I outside of Bonneville Dam from this past summer.

It's amazing to me how time passes so quickly from when my father would hold my little hand in church squeezing my knuckles until they hurt to my father standing beside me when I got married.  There are so many cherished memories.  More than could fill these pages here. 

So today, on my father's birthday... I honor him.

I love you daddy!!! 

...all the numbers in the world

plus 3!

John and I had a very hard time this past weekend.  We had to put our little friend Kodo Piggy to sleep.  Over the past couple weeks, Kodo had gotten very ill.  We were hand feeding and drinking the poor little guy this last week.  We took him to the vet this past Saturday, and although the doctor was very gentle and loving to little Kodo, he didn't give us much hope.  Needless to say, I cried like a baby for hours and throughout the day.  Kodo was a good little pig.  He loved all of the animals who frequently were seen visiting him in his cage.  I truly believe that he thought that he was a cat.  He loved the kitties.. and the dogs as well.  And he had this amazing sense of trust.  He would just focus on watching me, and take a bath or whatever needed to be done.  Poor little guy.  Poor little Kodo... The last day we had with Kodo he just curled into me on the couch and let me pet him.  I never knew how much personality a little guinee pig could have, but Kodo was over the top with it.  We'll miss you Kodo.  We love you.

For I love my beloved and my beloved loves me....

I wanted to take a moment and honor my sweet, sweet husband because he is in fact the reason behind this mad-ass blogging.  He is the inspiration, the muse and the technical expertise behind it all. 

John and I met almost three years ago at our former employer, OPUS CREATIVE.  They are a local Portland creative agency that we both don't talk about so nicely anymore.  To be honest, I'm not sure if I ever talked that nicely of the company to begin with, but that is another entry for another time.  But it was there where we met.  John was hired on as a contract web developer, and I was the office manager/receptionist.  We had this little event every Friday morning called "Breakfast Fairy" where someone would cook or bring in breakfast for the company.  It was nice...  Little did John know that when he made his sweet potato empanada's that I would go down on my knees and propose to him.  Hey, he's a good cook, and I'm a skinny little girl.  You can read further about this in Oregon Business Magazine who interviewed us in regards to love and the workplace.  It was like a rock rolling downhill after that when we started dating, bought a house together and then got married all within a year and a half.   As they say, when you know... you know. 

What's funny about this situation is that I was against living together, let alone marriage.  I had been in a couple of pretty hard previous relationships, and was scared SHIT to find myself in another.  I had found solice in being single.  It worked for me... to a point.  I had never had previous experience of healthy, happy relationships.  I didn't believe in them.  And then John walked into my life...

From our very first date, it was comforting.  We talked with ease to the point of letting a 1/2 game of pool that cost us god only knows how much run for hours.  We never did finish that game.  It has been a very wierd and wonderful experience to fall in love with John.  Things just seem to fall in place as if to say, "LOOK, WAKE UP!!! HE'S THE ONE..."  And at times I still find it hard to believe.  What I find amazing is how we can go out to eat at Sweet Tomatoes, and have it be the time of our lives.  It had been a short while since we had the time to go out to eat.  As I sat across from him, I was amazed at how much I was simply enjoying his company.  He truly is my best-friend.

John is a warm hearted, loving soul.  He has this huge capacity to love that even he is unaware of.  I know that it will just overflow if and when we ever have children.  He showers me with this love that just breaks me because it's so beautiful.  He is a good man, an intelligent man and a sarcastic son-of-a-bitch.  Everyone should have a John... just not mine. 

I thank you John, for sharing YOU with ME.  It is an enormous gift, an honor and a blessing that you have somehow found me, and as I say, somehow saved my life.  

We went out for breakfast this morning to The Cadillac Cafe which is where I proposed to John, again, and also where we had our wedding breakfast party.  The Host asked me a simple question to which I replied a simple answer.  He asked me, "So... Are you STILL on your honeymoon?"  To which I replied, "OF COURSE I AM!" 

I love you Babe!  And yes, I do believe in Santa Clause.

Today marks the fifth anniversary of the passing of my Aunt Becky.  Aunt Becky was a wonderful, gentle heart.  She came to America from Czechoslovakia as a poor immigrant child, and left as a sort-of Marilyn Monroe beauty queen and super-star.  She was a loving wife to Lyle Gumm, and a wonderful sister and aunt to the rest of the Boyda family.  Aunt Becky was the oldest of the six Boyda children born to Michael and Anna.  She grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and ended in Los Angeles, California.  Although the miles separated us from her, she was always there for her family. 

I miss Aunt Becky tremendously. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her.  I continue to talk to her, and I truly believe that she continues to look after me, as well as the rest of the family.

I love you Aunt Becky.  And so today I honor you...