This has to be THE jolliest snowman stamp around!    It’s Daper Dan Snowman  from High Hopes Stamps, now in stock at 7 Kids College Fund  – but they’re going fast!    

I used this week’s awesome sketch from Splitcoast for my card and just flipped it.

Since this is image is named Daper Dan, I thought he should have a bit more of a formal attire!   So, I paper pieced his vest and umbrella.  All the DP used for this card is from the Little Yellow Bicycle Sharon Ann Christmas Magic Collection.

I also attached a REAL bow for his bowtie.   The holly leaves are from a string of these that I purchased from my local scrapbook store and I added some red pearls from  Kaisercraft.   The handkerchief in his pocket is the top of one of the holly leaves!   

I also added some  Stickles in gold  for the tips of his umbrella, stardust for the outer edges of Dan and icicle  for the snow on the ground.   I even used some Pumpkin orange Smooch paint  for his carrot nose.   His buttons are some black flat-back beads that I had in my stash.      Here’s a closeup view showing all the little embellishments:

Whew.  I think that it!    Thanks for dropping in today – I appreciate it!

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Copics Used:     B60, 63;  YG93;  G28; R000, 20, 27, 30; YR12, 15, 18;  E30, 31, 33, 35, 37, 41, 42; T1, 3, 5; W0, 1, 3, 5, 7;  C10

A new friend of mine noticed that I use some not so common expressions repeatedly in all my conversations with him.. some of them include,

As if!

High Hopes!

Good for you!

and so on and so forth..

Well,

here is High Hopes, a really cute song sung by Frank Sinatra:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPit9WwYARk

Next time you’re found, with your chin on the ground
There a lot to be learned, so look around

Just what makes that little old ant
Think he’ll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can’t
Move a rubber tree plant

But he’s got high hopes, he’s got high hopes
He’s got high apple pie, in the sky hopes

….Ha ha.. totally love the last line! so cute:-)

- *Poppins & TwinkleToes*

China Glaze knows how to make a girl swoon. In the midst of a snowstorm, I saw a promotion for their spring 2010 collection, “Up & Away.” What a lovely reminder that spring will eventually come! Warmer temps, blue skies…it’s a nice thought for these long, dark nights.

This collection is pure fun. I love how comprehensive this group is, with 12 colors in all. I really feel there is something for everyone here, from gals who like to keep it neutral to girls who love a bright flash on their nails.

View the entire lineup after the jump.

Sugar High is a perfect pastel pink, and Something Sweet is in the same pretty pale family. Heli-yum is a vibrant hot pink on nails; very pretty for a pop of fresh color. Re-fresh Mint is similar to Essie’s Mint Candy Apple (a shade I love). Lemon Fizz is a pale, creamy pastel yellow that looks absolutely fresh and unexpected for a manicure. What could more spring-y than lemons?

Talk about all the major Christmas stars on one card!    It’s Santa, Rudy AND Frosty!    I really think this stamp would be a major hit with any 2, 3 or 4 year old out there.   It called Three Pane Christmas from High Hopes.

I just love their adorable little faces.   These are illustrated by my friend and AMAZINGLY talented artist Crissy Armstrong.  If you’ve not been to her blog, you REALLY need to take a peek – but you won’t want to leave! 

For my card, I used the Spellbinders Shapeabilites Ribbon Tag Trio 2 for the sentiment and the Spellbinders Nestabilites Large Scalloped Long Rectangle dies.  I’m not sure where the DP is from, it’s been in my stash for awhile, but I was looking for something a little brighter and cheery for a child’s Christmas card.

If you’re interested, I will be adding this card to my ETSY store later today.

Thanks for visiting!   Hope you’re somewhere warm and out of the path of a MAJOR snowstorm headed this way!

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Copics Used:   E000, 00, 11, 30, 31, 33, 35, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 51, 53, 55;  R000, 20, 22, 30, 35, 37, 39, 46, 89;  B000, 00, 01, 60, 63;  Y11, 17, 21, 28, 38; G3, 7, 19; YG21;  W1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8;  C1, 2, 3, 7, 10; T1, 3, 5

I hope to visit England sometime in the near future, and when I do there are a number of must-see places on my list. Highgate Cemetery is one of these, not least because of its use as a prominent location in Mike Leigh’s High Hopes (1988). This is one of my favourite scenes in the film (please excuse the subtitles – it’s the best video I could find on the web):

Apart from Karl Marx, other famous memorials at the cemetery include Sir Ralph Richardson, John and Elizabeth Dickens (parents of Charles and models for Micawber and Mrs Nickleby), Carl Mayer (Austrian-German screenwriter of The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari and Sunrise) and Douglas Adams. An expanded list of famous interments is available at the official website.

TGIS!  I’m really enjoying my brown kraft paper a little too much!    This famous duo is from High Hopes, called Santa & Rudy.    I love High Hopes images, they really are awesome stamps to work with since they always stamp out so clearly.   I sometimes have difficulties with some of the unmounted stamps — but, maybe it’s just me, user error!!   lol

7 Kids College Fund  now carries Copic markers in the T (Toner Grays) and N (Neutral Grays) colors.  Since I didn’t have any Ts in my collection, I ordered a few and LOVE them!   They really work well for coloring blacks – I’ve always struggled to do anything black.   But, I used T1, 3 & 5 for Santa’s boots and was pretty happy with how they turned out.  

I added some button brads to Santa’s suit – they were originally blue, but I painted them with some black nail polish!  The white parts were done using Smooch paint in Moonlight - my bottle is almost empty!   And, of course, a little Christams Red Stickles for Rudy’s nose!    The falling snow is white Liquid Applique.  

 The only sentiment that kept coming to my mind when I would look at these two is BFF!   Thought this might make a cute card to send to your own BFF.        

I guess today is the official Christmas Decorating weekend.   Unfortunately, over the past few years, I’ve developed an allergic reaction to pine trees – just having one in the house gives me hives!   So there is no way I can touch the tree to decorate it.   We are thinking of buying an artificial one this year.  Ugh.   I’ll miss the smell of a freshly cut tree, but definitely not the hives!!   

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Copics Used:      R20, 22, 30, 35, 37, 39, 89;  G12, 21, 24, 85, 99;  E000, 00, 01, 11, 30, 33, 37, 40, 41, 42, 44, 47;  W0, 1, 3, 4, 6, 8;  T1, 3, 5

You were going to say something today . You said it wasn’t bad and it’s nothing I should worry about , but you wouldn’t tell me regardless . I think we both know what I’m hoping it may have been . I want to hear those three words from you more than anything . A day or two ago I mentioned that I knew there was basically no hope of us ever being together again , and I hope you know that your reply “you don’t know that” really gave me hope . I just pray I’m not being set up to get let down . A lot of my friends think it’s really stupid for me to love you . Long distance never works , they say , and I should just move on and find a nice boy closer to home to spend my time with . They tell me I’m lucky I don’t have things here to remind me of you everyday , but that isn’t true . I know I love you , and I don’t care what anyone says . I’m not going to change my mind , and I couldn’t change my heart if I tried . You said that you really wanted me there , to do all sorts of things to me . When I asked “like what?” I was honestly expecting “sex” to be your answer , but you said kisses and snuggles . Please don’t lead me on if there isn’t that chance that maybe I can redeem myself and have you as mine once again . Be careful with your words , baby - my heart’s treading on thin water .

I really meant it when I said I’m really happy that we still talk , because I can’t imagine how I could possibly be without you .

My adorable granddaughter, Anna, asked if grandma would make 15 birthday party invitations for her upcoming 5th birthday.   Anna really loved this little cutie stamp from High Hopes.   (Did you know that 7 Kids College Fund  now carries High Hopes stamps??)   

As all little girls, (and big girls too!)  Anna loves LOTS of glitter and sparkle, so I added some lavender Stickles to her dress, polar white Flower Soft to her feather boa, white opal Liquid Pearls for her necklace and the buttons on her gloves and a pink gemstone to the flower on her hat.  Here’s a photo of the completed “original” invite:

It always takes me SUCH a long time to color an image and the thought of coloring 15 images was a little overwhelming for this grandma!     Soooooo, I colored the original image, scanned it to my computer (before adding any embellishments), and bought some blank notecards byAvery from the office supply store.   

I was able to go directly to Avery’s website and follow their instructions for this particular template.   Easy peasy!!      I followed the same format for the original invitation and printed out 15 smaller versions.    I can’t believe how much time this saved me.

I was even able to include the party details for Anna to fill in on the reverse side of each invitation.

After they were printed, I added some extra embellishments to each “copy” to match the original.    Anna can now keep the original card as a keepsake.

I was pretty excited at how easy this process was and thought it might work well for a gift set of notecards, even Christmas cards, allowing the recipient to have the original colored image to keep!    

Thanks for stopping by … Please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions about any of the above.   Hope you’re having a relaxing Sunday.

The following is a brief profile of one of the athletes I interviewed. To see future updates by email, subscribe to my blog on this page.

Jean Completing the 13-ers

Jean Aschenbrenner is a rock climber who lives in Boulder, Colorado, and who was the first woman to climb all of Colorado’s mountains over 13,000 feet in elevation. Jean visited Colorado as a prerequisite trip in order to travel to Europe with her Girl Scout troupe when she was in high school. It was on that trip that Jean reached the top of her first 14,000 foot mountain, Pike Peak, and fell in love with the mountains. Jean rock climbed for the first time when she was in college, and recalls how she loved the feel of the rock, and the physical challenge. After college, Jean spent time in Kenya with the Peace Corps and climbed many peaks during her time abroad. Jean returned to Colorado where the mountains have once again captured her imagination and given her countless days of joy.

I’ve added a couple new pages to my 50 Athletes Over 50 site. I’ve posted the interview questions I used in the interviews for those who are interested. http://athletes.50interviews.com/interview-questions/

 I also created a High Hopes page. This page is for me, and you if you desire, to get our fix of the song High Hopes, which has become somewhat of a personal theme song for my wife Sylvia and me. When my wife Sylvia recently was feeling down because she had a very slow week in her restaurant, I got her singing High Hopes while we had our morning coffee in bed. Some days when I’m feeling a bit overdrawn at the energy bank due to my job, my work on my book, and my work on the 50-k Active/Athlete Challenge, I sing High Hopes to keep plugging. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. http://athletes.50interviews.com/high-hopes-fix/

Myrna Hagg, who I interviewed back in August, just published her book, Six Steps to Never Diet Again. Read about it and see a couple cool video clips at http://www.myrnahaag.com/

I’m very excited about the event I’m having on 10/24 in Fort Collins, Colorado to celebrate my first book and launch the 50-k Active/Athlete Challenge. Thirty people are registered, and I have people from the City of Fort Collins, local organizations that promote health, local sports related business owners, local politicians, some of the athletes I interviewed, as well as friends and supporters attending. I plan on showing a multi-media piece that I created at the event that I hope everyone will like. It will hit the internet on 10/25 at www.50-k.net, so keep your eyes open.

If you like what I’m doing and want to support me, please tell everyone you can think of about the 50-k Active Challenge and send them to www.50-k.net. 50,000 is a big number and 10/10/2010 is looming.

If you haven’t already, please register for the Challenge at 50-k.net. By registering you will be commiting to yourself that you will get more active. If you’re already active, you will be helping me elevate the conversation about the importance of living an active life. I would love for the media to spend equal time publicizing Health Reform as they do publicizing Health Care Reform. Stand up and be counted by registering at www.50-k.net!

Eran mediados de los noventas, y todos los domingos yo iba a visitar a mi abuela materna. Bellos tiempos.

En la tarde, mis tios, mi viejo y yo nos poniamos a ver videos musicales. Por aquel entonces salia al aire en Teleandina, el programa del Pato Borja BIG BANG BOOM VIDEO y en Teleamazonas un programa llamado EL ASCENSOR, en este ultimo recuerdo haber visto el estreno de este gran video de Pink Floyd.

Mi tio tiene el album que contiene esta cancion, titulado The Division Bell.

09/17/09 – 3,199

Food Journal – No

Good morning Mintdom!

I had another low step day.  <sigh>  I am noticing that I have too many sitting down jobs.  Of course, it certainly does not help that I have not been going out in the mornings.  This is the last morning that I do not go out.  Does it ever seem to you that it is difficult to focus on all areas of your life at once?  All areas to me are spiritual, family, business, financial, and personal.  Even if I push myself, at least two or three suffer at any given time.

“Be not afraid of going slowly; be afraid only of standing still.” –Chinese Proverb

In the past, this would be the time, is when I would get down on myself for not making enough progress.  Today, I remind myself that I am a failure ONLY if I quit!  I have no plans of doing that.  Remember that song about ‘the rubber tree plant’ – called High Hopes.  I DO have ‘high hopes’ that I can move MY rubber tree plant!  I think that my retreat on Sunday will give my engine a little extra strength and vision to do just that!

http://tinyurl.com/RubberTree

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSpKeXhUt2o

AffirMINTion:  I have high hopes for a healthy, balanced life!

Make it a GREAT day, IF you choose to.

Life is good!

By the Potomac in River Creek, Leesburg, Virginia

I am not really a “girly” girl.  I like to smell nice, sure…I wear dresses and skirts more than I wear pants….yea.  But I don’t wear much makeup, and I don’t understand most women’s obsession with shoes or slut-wear. 

I don’t like high heels.  There…I said it.

I am a comfort girl.  I will dress up, but I need clothing that feels like me…that allows the real me to come out in full-force…and high heels do not do that.  They make me feel unsteady.  They’re painful, and I can’t run in them.  (I have, and that resulted in yet another injury to my lower extremities).

For years, I worked in corporate America — where I was forced to wear suits and heels every damn day, even though I rarely saw a client…even though our office required me to walk through a giant field.  As soon as I got to work, I’d take off my shoes and kick them under my desk.  I simply could not pace while talking on the phone.  I couldn’t be me, and it would come across to my nurses…because I’d be grumpy due to the smashed toes.

When I left corporate recruiting for teaching, I gave all my high heels to my best friend…well, all except for one pair of strappy, black heels and a pair of tan heels that were my very first pair ever and had been stowed away somewhere outside the sight of my get-rid-of-this-shite eyes.  I found them when I moved, and I laughed when I remembered walking the streets of Downtown Denver barefoot after one of my many mock trial competitions.

Shoes just seem extraneous to me.  I’m more of a barefoot sort of person.  I literally suffer from them, no matter how comfortable they are.  Even flip flops give me issues.  The only shoes that don’t kill me are my Crocs.

This could be because my feet have always taken a beating.  Carrying extra weight for years contributed to that, and I’ve also hurt myself in some fantastic ways.  My ex, who was a former personal trainer, said I didn’t walk right…that I cause myself problems by how I land.  My feet are used to being used…abused, really.  They bear scars and callouses…and I sort of like it that way, honestly…though I’m so embarrassed about my gigantor feet. 

###

I had another one of those moments today where I found myself comparing myself to someone I know.  It happens often.  I’m competitive.  I compare myself to people.  In this case, I found out that yet another high school friend — someone I grew up with — who was pretty much my emotional doppelganger (the girl never dated, and I pretty much figured she’d join me in spinsterland) — is now married.  I think my mouth might’ve gaped a bit.  How the Hell did that happen?  In a way, it was inspiring…but, mostly, it made me frustrated.  How the Hell did she find someone to love/be loved by…and why the Hell haven’t I? 

It’s stupid, but I often get jealous of people who have families.  It’s not so much that I want to be married or have kids.  It’s taken me a long time to really figure out what I want, but I really just want to be in a solid, good relationship that probably will lead to marriage.  If it doesn’t make sense, then I’d be okay with not getting married.  And the kid thing I think would be something I’ll decide once I find that long-term partner…though I feel more drawn to the idea of being a Mama as I get older.  I still don’t really know, though, and could be convinced either way…given our lives together and what makes sense.

My jealousy, I suppose, comes from not having a family of my own anymore.  There is a part of me that craves big family get-togethers and traditions simply because I never had that as a kid.  I’ve always loved cooking for people and decorating the house for holiday things.  One of the things that was probably most devastating for me when my Mama died was the fact that she died on Christmas Eve day.  So, now, that holiday — which was always terribly difficult anyway — is completely transformed for me.  I feel like part of my healing can’t happen until I finally am able to embrace the holiday as I used to.  It used to be my most favorite holiday, and I’m always so sad that I can’t be part of that celebration anymore.  I feel like I need to redefine it somehow, but I know I really can’t do that alone because that holiday isn’t about being alone.

In recent weeks, I’ve realized that — while I am okay with being single and don’t feel any huge push to not be — I am better when I’m in a relationship, and I am sick to death of being alone.  I want to share my life with someone.  I want to have someone to call when things go right.  I don’t want to agonize over who to put down as an emergency contact.  I want to see the world with someone and take on the world…changing it together…even if it’s just our collective one.

That’s what I’m jealous about.

I know that people are jealous of me — of what I’ve done.  It seems like a lot.  I’ve traveled.  I’ve studied.  I’ve lived life as hard as I could.  But, to me, without someone to share it with or love, it feels sort of like some big distraction to make me forget I’m alone.  I was talking to a friend last night about the fact that I’m so frustrated about my romantic life — how it is, how it’s been — that I feel like giving up…just “being a nun” and forgetting the whole thing.  But I keep putting myself out there and being vulnerable because I am lonely.  I keep wanting to believe that I’ll find the right person eventually.  Still, I keep finding myself in situations with bad ideas or people who just aren’t available for whatever reason.  And it’s because I’m not really available either.  I have so much to do, and I’m working so hard to do it.  I find it difficult to find time both physically and emotionally to put myself out there with people who won’t meet me halfway.  The loneliness pushes me to do it anyway, but I’m finding that I’m — more and more — wanting someone to go above and beyond because I don’t feel like putting my neck out for someone who won’t stick around or will stick around in some half-assed way.  I know I’m testing people, but I don’t trust anyone anymore…whatever tentative trust I could give people has pretty much been stomped out of me.  I figure the people worth knowing will try harder to know me…try to prove that they’re worth my time.  I’m trying hard to stay open and not get pissed off so much that I shut down completely, but it’s hard.  I’m constantly running into a roadblock of non-communication or incomplete communication, which is something I don’t tolerate well.  I’ve noticed it’s a huge issue with the younger men I’m meeting (which is why I always had a no-dating-younger-men rule).  I think it’s because younger people tolerate such shit.  At 31, I find I don’t have the patience and will bail in a heartbeat if someone doesn’t value me enough to reach out when it’s necessary.

###

Life evolution is an odd thing.  As a kid, I was such a doer — but it was blind doing.  I was doing everything because other people said I should.  The outside informed the inside.  Then, when Mama died, I spent a long time spinning — which is such a painful role for me because I am such a proactive sort of person.  I have never been one to simply talk about things.  But, during that time, I had so many false-starts and felt so much that I didn’t know what to do with.  The emotions nearly paralyzed me.  Since January, I’ve been trying to integrate the two.  I’ve been trying to be more of that doer, but having the doing be informed by the emotions…by the inner instead of the outer.  I am doing things now because they please me.  I am doing things now because I want to.  I am spending much more time figuring out who I am and what I want.  I am much less likely to accept the decisions of other people in terms of how my life operates.  I am stronger in my own foundation, and I feel like I’m reaching a point of integrity.

Today was interesting because I spent nearly the entire day working on my assignments for my Needs Assessment course.  When I first signed up for it, I shuddered at the thought because it looked very annoying in terms of tasks.  My instructor’s initial email frustrated me, and the first week was one where I was whining left and right.  However, recent days have revealed that my course is full of really interesting people.  I think the fact that many of my classmates are public school teachers has helped me take the assignments seriously. 

Working on my Master’s in Education has been a frustrating experience for me.  I’ve always been a serious, good student.  I’ve always wanted to learn.  This degree seemed like the right idea when I started it, but it became apparent pretty quickly that I didn’t care about the theoretical aspects of training.  For me, corporate training is really just teaching adults in a workplace.  Teaching is interactive.  You can theorize all day long, but it doesn’t mean anything without your students.  The doer in me was so, so frustrated.  At the same time, I started this, I also started working as an admissions counselor…and I quickly saw that counseling was something that uniquely fit me…fit who I had always been…and morphed everything I loved about teaching and training with helping people.  It was about doing…about helping other people do for themselves…and about giving them tools.  The theories I’d be learning would really be tools for my arsenal.  And that was fascinating for me. 

At my core, I am an analyzer.  I see things and try to figure out what it means…how to change it…how to make it more.  I see more in everything because of that.  When I was learning mediation, that part of my personality helped me immensely — and I am a fixer, so that sort of thing really, really energized me.  This needs assessment course is bringing out that part of my personality in a big way, and I am heartened by it because that part of me is motivated and hopeful.  That part of me can take on the world.  I’m getting an even bigger sense of clarity about what I need to do for me. 

And that’s forget about that external stuff and work on making my life the life I imagine.  The right people will find me.  I just need to keep myself open to anything, but take care of me first.  I am so incredibly excited for this next chapter.  I am so excited to learn about the human mind and how to heal it.  But, more than that, I’m seeing even more avenues for what’s possible for me.  I’m thinking my big idea to start a nonprofit also needs to incorporate the needs assessment and mediation pieces…helping people make their work something that uplifts them rather than bogs them down.  I know so many people whose hearts are breaking because they’re spending their lives in heels and suits…behind desks where who they are doesn’t matter. 

I know what I’ll be doing.  I’ll be wearing my sneakers.

I don’t usually like covers, especially if it’s of a song I really like. One of the reasons why I don’t like talent/singing type shows like Idol. But I don’t detest all covers. On the contrary, there are some I really like at least at much as the original, maybe even more (Marco Hietala’s vocals alone already makes Nightwish’s High Hopes so much better than the original. And we aren’t even talking about the arrangements yet.). These are usually covers where the musicians give the song a whole new feel and interpretation and play it in their style. Listen to some of my favourite covers and you’ll get what I mean!

Helden/Heroes Original by David Bowie

Wonderwall Original by Oasis

High Hopes Original by Pink Floyd

Ain’t Nobody Original by Chaka Khan

Okay.  So, I realize that yesterday’s post might have been a bit depressing/angsty.  It happens.  What can I say?  I was having a bad day.  The stress was coming at me from every possible side, and I just didn’t feel like I had any more solutions left.  When that happens, which is rare, I get a bit whiny…and I also tend to isolate and throw rocks at people. 

I’ve been told that Alma in a bad mood is probably something like the Apocalypse (that word’s been in my head lately…hmmm).  I am normally such a “sunny personality” (no, really, people have told me this in elevators).  I try to smile.  I try to be a warm, welcoming person.  When shite happens, and life gets me down, my antidote is trying to find a silver lining.  (Funny how my new favorite place is called Silver Thread).  But an Alma who is down in the dumps is like the worst thing ever — because I don’t do anything half-way.  Luckily, it rarely lasts.

And I know, yesterday, I was being all feel sorry for myself and said that I wasn’t going to try anymore…that I was just going to focus on school and work…and fuck the police about everyone else.  Well, maybe I didn’t say, “fuck the police,” but I was thinking it.  Who are we kidding?  This is me we’re talking about.  I could have a massive head wound, and I’d still reach out to people.  It’s who I am.  I care, damnit…despite my best efforts to not give a rat’s ass.  All the other stuff about focus and blahblahblah…yea…totally valid.  But there was a reason my path got diverted.  It’s possible to be stable and go after your dreams while maintaining good relationships.  The key is give and take.  And, perhaps, the problem hasn’t been so much on my end…except for the fact that I’ve been involved with a shitload of takers.  But the instinct to take care of me is a good one.  So, I am going to put my head down and take some names these next few months.  Sometimes, life kicks you in the ass just so you’ll remember you have one.  I think the powers that be like to irritate me because seeing me rally is kind of amusing.  Because I do.  I rally like no one else.

Last night, I was able to get out of my funk and connect with someone — which is nice, especially when it isn’t particularly expected.  And today, in true old-Alma fashion, I got up early and kicked ass.  It was scary…I wasn’t sure…lots of will it-won’t it.  But it worked out, eventually.  There will likely be another stressful day later this week, but it shouldn’t kill me.  And the end of September could be hairy…but, after that, I’m alright.  Not fabulous, but it’s enough. 

Alma 3,490,907,976, Fuckers of the World 10.

I am, after all, their daughter.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m going through this phase of panicked ambivalence towards having kids. On the one hand, I know I want to have kids, that’s not really the question. But on the other hand, I’m petrified about how it will change my life, and all the freedom I’ll have to give up. I’m just not ready yet, which would be fine if my clock weren’t tick-tocking over here. I don’t have to have them now, but it’s right around the corner. And this is causing no small amount of stress for me.

This weekend we went to visit some friends, and we were only one of two couples who don’t have kids. Normally I’m a little cranky when it comes to kids. I also tend to feel like every time we all hang out, it will be the last time, because at any moment everyone is officially going to become too busy to make time for friendship, and Greg and I are going to be left out in the cold. But actually this time I felt pretty optimistic. I just thought I’d share a little excerpt from my personal journal, because writing this just made me feel really good…

“I had this moment when I was watching Erik with his little guy Jakob, and everyone was hanging out and laughing, and the kids were enjoying themselves, and I thought, ‘Maybe this will work. Maybe we will stay together as friends after all, through all the family stuff, and still have fun. Maybe kids add to the fun instead of detracting.’ For a minute it felt like being in Montauk at Tony & Eileen’s house when I was little, where everyone would hang out and enjoy themselves, and it was a good combination of family time and adult time in one. And for that moment I was really hopeful for the future, and I felt like we were all together as one big family and it was a sort of amazing warm & fuzzy feeling. “

As housing industry reports continue to show growth each quarter, there seems to be the perception of light at the end of this very long tunnel. According to a survey by Zillow H2 titled the “Homeowner Confidence Survey”, a recorded 60% of respondents are well aware that their home probably lost value over the last year.

This realistic view has generated a flicker of hope to light the views of 81% of the homeowners surveyed. This group sees a leveling off of the home prices over the next six months and an end to the ongoing declines that have been seen.

Experts do not estimate that these high-hopes will pan out into real growth in the housing market, but the reality is that in a consumer-based economy, the perception may actually be a stronger factor than the reality in the long run. Even if home prices don’t increase in the short-term, the fact that homeowners are now accepting the fact that they are in a depreciative state for their homes values, they may proceed differently in their budgeting for expenses and planning for the future.

Perception of promise and acceptance of past errors may just be the guiding light that we need to begin digging out of the mudslide that the housing market has experienced over the last few years.

Considering the ongoing drama existing in Real Estate legislation and the backbiting within the factions of the Real Estate industry, even a perception of hope is better than no positive results at all. After all, “perception is reality” and any good news is a step in the right direction.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the definition of home.  I suppose it’s something I’ve always really been fascinated by, but it’s become even more of a focus since my Mama died nearly five years ago.  And, more recently, it’s been a focus simply because I’ve felt so restless about nearly everything.

It’s kind of odd because, as a kid, my life was extremely unstable; however, it didn’t really move.  I lived in a horrific little studio apartment where Denver’s Westword now lives until I was three.  And from then on, I lived in a two bedroom in southwest/west Denver.  It was not a comfortable place to live.  The walls were white.  The neighbors were loud.  The neighborhood itself was steeped in poverty and violence.  Despair was its calling card.  But I had a front and back yard, so Mama/Daddy thought it was a step up.  It’s odd because, despite living there for so long, it never really felt like home until I left it.  I lived at Regis for a short time, then moved back home, then moved into what was basically a cookie cutter of my childhood home…and stayed there until my Mama died. 

For literally years, I remember telling my Mama that I was going to get out of that neighborhood.  I felt like I had a noose around my neck that was connected to an anchor–and that nothing I did would matter as long as I lived there.  I hated living there, even though I was extremely grateful to have had that experience of growing up different from most people I knew/respected.  It was just painful.  But it was a place where, once you were there, it was terribly difficult to leave.  Even for all its crappiness, it was a place that got under your skin.  Sort of like some insanely bad-for-you lover.  I have no doubt that, if I had stayed there, I would be some version of permanently damaged.

And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that my Mama’s death was what finally gave me the kick in the ass I needed to finally leave.  After she died, my apartment was too quiet, somehow.  In that world of constant throbbing something or other, I felt like the volume had been put on mute.  And every day, I found myself constantly confronted with what didn’t exist anymore.  I couldn’t deal with the white walls anymore.  I couldn’t deal with the echoes or the questions from neighbors.  I couldn’t deal with the whispers.  It was time to leave, so I did.

The place where I moved was a fairly small, perfect-for-just-one-person, artsy condo on the Congress Park side of Cheesman.  The first time I stepped into the lobby, I remember being underwhelmed by the building.  It was a four-story, older set of condos.  But it was literally on the park, close to absolutely everything.  The building itself was aging and lacked the amenities of similarly priced places in the area, but the condo itself made up for it.  I remember just feeling all kinds of calmer when I walked in.  There was a washer-dryer in the unit.  The walls were purple and light blue.  The ceilings were tall.  The kitchen was amazing.  And I loved the balcony.  It felt like home, and soon, it was.

I lived there for four years, until this past February.  And, for a long time, it was a good thing.  It was the place where I grew into my new identity as an independent woman.  I lived and loved.  I lost and found more.  But, at varying points along the way, I felt restless…felt like I needed to go somewhere else.  I suppose I never felt more that way than the last year I spent there.

I suppose what changed was that staying there was less of a choice than the lesser evil.  I didn’t love being there anymore, and the place stopped fitting my needs.  Things were breaking all the time…something was going wrong nearly every day.  And, then, my ex moved in–and suddenly, an uncomfortable situation became nearly impossible.  It was very difficult making room for an entire other person’s life…helping him adopt this place that didn’t really feel like mine anymore.  It was cramped, and as we both went through difficult life events, the walls felt like they were shrinking.  Little annoyances like construction and overpriced rent became completely batshit-inducing.  And it started finding its way into our relationship.  I think I was cranky the entire time he lived with me.  We had intended to get a bigger place together as soon as money wasn’t such an issue–which it was that entire year–but then the relationship fell apart, and he moved to his parents’ house 2000 miles away…living in their basement, building bookshelves.  Like Peter Pan.

I suppose it was around that time that I stopped liking him as a person, and I stopped feeling like the place where I lived was still mine.  It had been this place of enduring some crappy situation…and the place it had been could never be reclaimed.  Before he left, I had decided that I needed to get out of Colorado.  It wasn’t the first time I felt that way.  I almost moved to Los Angeles several months prior, but then determined that LA was not the place for me…that maybe I was just running…that maybe I still needed something from Denver.  So, I didn’t. 

My decision to leave in December was the result of my reevaluating the major events of my life.  I realized I had compromised on many different things–that I had settled and had not pursued things because of other people.  I decided that I should move to NYC this summer–I would be settling in somewhere right now if things had worked out.  I applied to big-name schools–for programs I’d always planned on, but never pursued.  I was excited; I was sure.  It had always been in the cards.  I just had never committed.

A lot of things changed between then and now, though.  For one, my landlord foreclosed on the condo I was living in–which meant I had a short amount of time to find a new place.  Month-to-month leases, while not impossible to find, are difficult when you have a cat and when you don’t want to spend a ton of money.  I ended up finding a place that was a half a block away, bigger, and the same price…but it meant signing a year lease.  I agonized over it, but did it anyway.  As time went on, my interest in NY waned.  I felt less ready–more in love with Colorado–more frustrated with the idea of moving again.  And the idea of being close to my ex again, location-wise, was not something I necessarily wanted.  While the break-up was initially friendly, our relationship suffered during our attempts to be friends…and the last thing in the world I wanted was to run into him or friends of friends.  And I just slowly realized that the difficulties I had were steering me away.  I had nothing to prove…and the ways I had compromised had actually given me more time with Mama.  And those big-name schools were actually pretty lame…less impressive…and just big names.  I wondered why I had deemed myself a failure because I made choices that made sense at the time.  So, I really had no regrets after all.

But the nagging feeling that I need something else has not gone away.  I’ve felt more and more compelled over the past few months to get out of Denver.  Part of that, undoubtedly, has something to do with being frustrated with where I live.  It’s nice enough, but the walls are white.  I like my neighbors, but the management company is annoying.  The maintenance man stole a knife by putting it down his pants, for God’s sake.  And I just feel like I need something else.  I’ve been feeling the need to be near nature.  I thought about Nederland and Boulder for a while…but I think it’d drive me insane after a while.  I need to be in a city, and Denver feels too small–so how would Boulder feel?  Besides…I find Boulder people much less friendly than Denver people.  It’s much easier to feel isolated, I’ve noticed.

When I got the job with my alma mater, I thought I’d move to Highlands so I could walk to work.  It made sense.  But my co-worker warned me about its gentrification and told me how miserable I’d be.  And then, that job fell apart…so here I am…back to square one.  The odd thing being that square one suddenly opened my eyes again.  I can do anything, from anywhere.  No limits, really.  Just me.  Why am I limiting myself?  I suppose it comes down to fear–fear of making a mistake and not having anyone there to catch me when the bloody head wound occurs.  Or, maybe, it’s that I’ll leave and leaving will take the Colorado out of me–and one day, when I return, it won’t know me.  Which is silly.  Because really.  Colorado could be a parent by now.

On Tuesday, during my road trip, something clicked over.  The restlessness that I’ve been feeling has become almost painful.  I feel like I keep meeting the same people when I’m out and about.  I feel like, while I’m still learning, I’m learning less.  I’m less curious about things and more world-weary.  And I feel like I keep finding myself in the same situations over and over again.  For a long time, and maybe even still, I thought that perhaps it’s because I haven’t learned the lessons.  But I have…I keep making good decisions and dealing with things with aplomb.  But it’s not really challenging anymore.  It’s actually almost funny…this again…this is all you’ve got?  It’s odd, too, because I seem to be drawn to people who aren’t here.  I meet people while I’m out, and the ones who I most connect with don’t live here…are just visiting.  I’ve always been a firm believer in the power of travel.  And I think that I’ve misjudged what home is.  I think that I’m starting to not appreciate home simply because–like my old neighborhood–home is no longer helping me be more myself…no longer supporting who I need to become.  I think leaving will help with that and will help me truly love this place I already love more than anywhere else.  But one thing is clear, I need something else. 

I need different types of people…different versions of natural beauty…a place where I don’t know too many people and no one knows me…a place that isn’t too big, but isn’t small–where I can redefine my life…start off with a clean slate…a clear head…new challenges to say eff off to.  I’ve always had a list of cities where I’d like to live: NYC, Chicago, Boston, San Diego, Portland, San Francisco, and Seattle.  But, I suppose, the LA thing made me much more wary of sudden moves.  I want to be sure before I commit to it.  I’m looking at it as a stepping stone.  At some point, I will need to live in NYC.  For soul-related reasons, but practical ones too.  I’m a playwright.  I need to see that and live it for a while.  But my internships will be much easier there–and more interesting, too.  But I won’t be ready for that if I stay here.  It’s too comfortable, and I’m tired of reliving Groundhog Day.

So, all of that said, that’s why I declared I’m moving in my last blog.  I feel silly even saying it since the last two major decisions fell flat, but I really do think it’ll happen this time.  I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.  And I really just feel like I need a new canvass.

I need to start posting on this here blog again. I’ve been tumbling and twitting and facebooking, but sometimes I miss writing in more than just snippets.

I’m very close to opening an Etsy shop. Nothing too fantastic to start, but it’s definitely been a big goal of mine and what with my recent obsession with sewing, the two seem to go hand in hand. I actually woke up at 5:30am and laid in bed thinking how much I’d like to go upstairs and sew. Unfortunately with our creaky floors and my loud machine, it didn’t seem right to do to Greg. So I waited until he got up at 6:30 and then went up and sewed. I am such a geek.

Someone on the other side of my desk has the most amazing smelling bouquet of flowers, it almost makes me not want to go home.

Truth be told, I’ve been having an existential crisis the past few months, that’s probably why I haven’t blogged. I’m just trying to figure some big things out, but the big things become even bigger and bigger in my head, and then I just can’t deal.

Casey’s coming for a visit next week!! I’m so excited, I haven’t seen her in aaaages and I really miss her. I’m not too much of a phone person, and email is simply no substitute for our banter, so I’m wondering how we’re possibly going to hit every important topic in the short few days that she’s here.

When I was a little girl, my best friend and I would spend nearly every evening “playing Barbies”–which was our term for the little plays we staged on the floor of my Mama’s bedroom.  We both watched a lot of soap operas as children, and she was three years older than I was, so our plays really were kinda oriented toward adults.  Sorta strange, I know…but it was all about love…the fairytale sorts of things and the mad passions–though we didn’t really understand the passions quite yet.

Anyway, my favorite Barbie had long brown hair and blue eyes…and she came with a sapphire dress with a lacy overlay…and I adored her.  I called her Monique Gutierrez.  Yes, she had a last name.  Her love interest shared the name of one of my exes (funny, that).  And, well, I’d sort of transport myself into her world.  She was everything I wanted to be–pretty, smart, fun, wealthy, independent…not tied down to anything.  So unlike me, actually.  And we’d spin these tragic stories about this girl and the man who desperately loved her.  Silly, yes.  I was always a sap.  Always a dreamer.  Always looking for my rainbow.

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Most of the things I write are about me.  The characters in all my stories/plays/etc are various shades of me.  Some tweaked a bit–some more like the me of ten years ago–but, still, all me.  The things I write about kinda require that, I suppose.  Because, otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense…because I’m writing about my experiences–my truths–and context is usually pretty important.  Of course, there are some things that I’ve written about that haven’t happened to me.  But, usually, there is something in it that I’ve thought about–maybe, something that almost happened except I made a different choice when it mattered.  I tend to think about the what ifs a lot.  And the odd thing is that most of my characters are quite different from one another.  Which maybe makes me a raging loon. 

But, really, I think it speaks to who I am as a person.  I’ve changed in some pretty drastic ways.  The person I am today is unrecognizable from the person I was only a few years ago.  There are some mainstays–some things that stay–but I find that I change quickly.  You never know who’ll you’ll meet from day to day.  And it wasn’t really all that intentional.  I didn’t set out to be completely different.  I have liked many things about myself, but life has a way of putting you in different places…stretching you out…moving your heart around.  And if you are someone who tries to pay attention to things–who constantly questions the reasons behind everything…well, you change.

I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.  It simply is.  I do know that it’s been tough on my relationships–romantic and otherwise–because people don’t necessarily want you to be someone else.  They like you as you are (hopefully)…or they want you to be their version of whatever you are.  Not necessarily the one you’re meant to be.

I find the whole thing fascinating, and it’s one of the reasons I’m drawn to be a counselor.  I like to watch people…see how they evolve…see what makes them “them.”

In any case, I’ve been thinking more and more about my life lately.  Not that it’s new or anything, but I’ve had a few revelations in the last few years that really have changed my ability to be okay with bad things when they happen–and to really embrace the things that make me happy.  The biggest thing, for me, has been realizing that every good/bad thing has a lesson attached and that my reaction is everything.  That I am exactly where I need to be, and while I can’t control the universe, I can make different choices. 

Choice for me is a big deal, I’ve discovered.  Perhaps, I was never really looking for solitude.  Maybe, I was always just looking for freedom.  I was always the dutiful one…always the responsible one…always the one waiting for someone else to get his/her shit together.  And I had absolutely everything I needed at my fingertips…but gave it away.  Over and over and over again.  Not because I wanted to, but because I felt like I should.

It’s odd because I was talking to my friend who shares my history, and we had such different experiences after our Mamas’ deaths.  I told her that, after my Mama died, I felt this immense weight lifted off of me.  I felt young for the first time in my life, and there was this sense of freedom/joy.  It was probably the first time I ever felt it to that degree.  I did eventually feel guilty for it, but there was this sense of relief.  There was this feeling that I could do absolutely anything I wanted with my life, and there was no one to disappoint except me.  Of course, that became difficult later.  But I think I felt this way because I had always made the choices that limited me.  I knew that I could survive on my own–that I had taken care of everyone for so long…and that I was actually less burdened by being alone.  My friend, on the hand, was terrified of not being able to take care of herself.

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Every year, before my birthday, I do a life inventory.  It’s sort of my way of summing up what happened this year…to seeing all of it in black and white–because, when it’s happening, you’re so focused on moving on that you don’t really see what happened.  It’s my way of maximizing the lessons, seeing patterns, and making better choices.

So, understandably, because my birthday is in less than a month (whoo hoo!), I’ve been thinking much more about my life.  This was probably the second most difficult year of my life–not that it was entirely bad–but it was probably one of the most challenging ones I’ve ever contended with.  And it could have been even worse if I hadn’t learned the lessons I did during my worst year ever.

I’m a list-maker.  I’ve made many, many lists over the years.  This year’s been no exception.  I’m also a doer, so these lists have been focused on actions.  But, lately, I’ve been thinking about the things I need to change internally in order to be ready to do those things…what do I need to choose to do?  Who do I want to be, really?  Because I find that these things have been on other lists…and I haven’t done them.  Why?  Sometimes, it’s been money…sometimes, it’s been time.  Sometimes, life got in the way.  But, mostly, it’s been fear.  And all the physical obstacles boil down to just that.  It was one of the many lessons I learned while being an admissions counselor.  I’ve learned to see excuses underneath the legitimate reasons why not.  But really it’s all just a big excuse covering the fact that I’m just too scared sometimes.

I’ve decided that the only way to really be able to do the things I want to do with my life is to decide to do them…to decide to be the person who does those things…for whom it isn’t scary.  I’m a strong believer that you can change anything about yourself…but it takes changing your behavior and surrounding yourself with people who are the way you want to be.  I’ve noticed recently, for example, that when I am at home, I tend to get down on myself.  I get anxious and crazed about things I can’t control.  But, when I am out in the world, I am excited and calm.  I feel much more alive…more energized…more me.  And I’m braver than I would normally be.  I don’t think that’s coincidental.

So, I’m going to identify traits that are part of who I used to be–who I sometimes am–or part of people I admire…and I’m going to take them on for a month or two.  I’m going to do the things those types of people do.  I’m going to hang out with people who are like this.  And I’m going to see what sticks.  It’s an experiment, I suppose.  Here’s the list of traits…

Spontaneity.

I’ve always struggled with it.  I am often spontaneous, but it’s sorta in a calculated way–which is the opposite of spontaneity–or it’s self-destructive.  I’m probably never going to be  as spontaneous as I’d like, but I want to be less careful.  I think the key here is to create safety nets for myself so that I can be more likely to act when I feel the urge to do something. 

Adventurous.

Everyone thinks I’m much more adventurous than I actually feel I am.  I really want to start doing things that are very much not me…to see if maybe some of these things are me. 

Self-nurturing.

I struggle with this so much–and it’s related to absolutely everything.  I need to continue doing the things I’ve started doing…things like overhauling the diet/exercise thing…more meditation…more volunteering…more goal-setting…more mental stimulation through classes…more reaching out to people and trying to connect. 

Fun.

Most people think I’m a pretty good time, but I often feel old and grouchy.  I hate how judgmental I can be–toward myself and others.  I want to engage in some more stupidity…do a few things that maybe I shouldn’t do. 

Relaxed.

I need to learn how to do nothing and be absolutely okay with it.  I need to learn to turn off my brain.  Meditation will do that.  Yoga, too.  But I think I need many more physical outlets–whether it’s learning new sports or painting with my elbows.

Brave.

Everyone thinks I’m so brave, but that makes me feel so phony because I think I’m the most chickenshit person alive.  I need to confront my fears even more.  I need to jump out of a plane again.  I need to sing in front of a huge audience.  I need to put my writing/art out there.  I need to get a damn tattoo and re-pierce my ears.  I need to wear fewer layers of clothing.  I need to be a little slutty.  I need to do more work related to sick people…be around terminally ill people.

So, that’s my plan for 31…subject to change, of course.

No sé muy bien como empezar esta entrada, esa es la verdad. Me toca escribir sobre uno de mis artistas favoritos y es difícil ser todo lo objetivo que desearía ser, pero lo intentaré.

Todo comenzó hace mas de dos años, con el primer disco de este muchacho, “These streets”, que se convirtió sin quererlo, en el disco que quizás más veces haya escuchado de manera continuada. Con la perspectiva que nos da el tiempo y el éxito alcanzado por el mismo, ahora comprendo los motivos. Los temas que sonaban por entonces: “New shoes”, “Jenny Don´t be hasty”, “Last Request”, “Rewind”, son temas que alcanzaron una importante notoriedad en las listas de éxitos de varios países. A todos aquellos que nunca hayáis escuchado nada de este joven talento, os animo a darle una oportunidad. Quizás lo más sencillo es que empecéis con su primer disco. Precisamente mientras escribo estas líneas estoy escuchando “These streets”, y suelo hacerlo frecuentemente pese a que ya han pasado varios años de su publicación. Para mi es una autentica joyita este disco.

Aqui os dejo el video de una de sus canciones más pegadizas, el “New Shoes”.

Y su primer disco These streets, para que podais descargar, pinchando sobre la carátula.

Paolo Nutini es un cantante escocés, pese a que su nombre y apellidos nos puedan llevar a confusión. La verdad es que lleva sangre italiana en sus venas. Siempre me ha sorprendido de este chico, que pese a su juventud (nacido en 1987), sus canciones destilan poso de artista con más años de carrera.

Pues el motivo de esta entrada no es hablaros de su anterior disco, aunque bien mereciese una entrada. Hoy escribo, para hablaros de su segundo disco, que acaba de publicarse hace poco. Con el sabor de boca que me dejó el primer álbum, no es de extrañar que lo tenga casi desde su fecha de publicación, y si el debut de Paolo me sorprendió, este segundo, titulado Sunny Side Up, lo ha hecho en la misma medida. Su primer sencillo Candy, es una delicia, y la última parte de la canción, cuando empieza con el I’ll be there, es totalmente adictiva. El primer corte del disco 10/10, es de los que más fácil entran en una primera escucha, al igual que “High Hopes”, o “Simple Thing”. Cuando digo que me ha sorprendido, lo digo con letras grandes, ya que nos hace retroceder varias décadas con su nuevo disco, conjugando de forma maestra, trompetas, harmónicas, guitarra y coros a lo largo del disco, todo ello aderezado con su increíble voz.

Me parece arriesgado no obstante, y por eso me parece doblemente meritorio, el enfoque que ha dado a su disco, ya que quizás la lógica para tener un éxito seguro, debería haberle llevado a hacer temas más parecidos a su primer LP. Más lejos de la realidad si exceptuamos su sencillo Candy y suele pasar, que las canciones que musicalmente nos hacen retroceder en el tiempo varias décadas, no son bien encajadas por las lista de éxitos donde predomina la música pop/rock. Parece ser que está vez no sucederá así, si nos atenemos a la gran acogida que ha tenido en el Reino Unido.

Ya para acabar os dejo el video de su primer single Candy

Su segundo disco Sunny Side Up, podeis descargarlo, pinchando sobre la carátula.