Friday, December 11, 2009

my best night ever

I have been blessed with an amazing friend that travels extensively. He happened to be in town last night, and my daughter, another friend, and I met him at one of our favorite restaurants, Cafe Malaga.

Cafe Malaga serves tapas that are out of this world. Eating their delicacies transports me to lands I've never been before, and to top it all off, my dear, wonderful traveling friend told us of some of his many adventures. Since my daughter has lived in Italy, the two of them took off to foreign land packing us with them. It was so much fun reliving their experiences of coffee and gelato near a piazza. My daughter's tale of how she spent the last of her lire on gelato before heading back to the states was enamoring. Our traveling friend leaned forward, plastered a broad smile on his face, and nodded before jumping in with his adventures in Rome.

The night, the music, the wine, the conversation, and especially the people, especially my traveling friend, made me want more. I wanted to travel more, read more, write more, just be more than I've been before. I just want more, more exciting moments with laughter and crazy-ass dancing. I want to hear foreign languages in an Italian villa. I want to feel textures of Parisian couture. I want to meander through the Louvre. I want to take a boat down the Amazon. I want to fly a single engine aircraft over a volcano.

There's so much to experience. Where to start? Well, I started with the trips I took last night with some of the most enjoyable people in the world sitting together at Cafe Malaga sipping Spanish wine and learning about the Brazilian airport named after the first aviator. (And we thought it was the Wright brothers...)

And I continue my travels today walking from RejuveNation LifeSpa to my studio above Spoons. Who knows where that trip will really take me. Yesterday in Rick's Chophouse bathroom a whole new world opened up for me. While in the center stall, I overheard a conversation that crystallized the first scene of my next novel. Last night we called it Lightning Bolt in the Bathroom. We'll see what it turns out to be when it grows up, but in the meantime, I'm getting off the computer and beginning my next journey across the square.

To my wonderful, beautiful friends and daughter who created my best night ever with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart. My greatest wish is that we take this conversation over to the best coffee shop in Italy sometime soon.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

final submission

Finally, after receiving a birthday card from my best friend from high school more than 13 years ago, daring me to write a book, I finally, yes, I repeat that, I finally approved the last detail about it so that it can now go into production.

Thirteen years, two months, and six days later, it is done. Dear God, what was the frickin' hold up? Life? Moving several times? Going for my pilot's license? Getting a divorce? Raising a teenager? Working waaaay too much? I don't know. Maybe it's always about everything being in perfect timing.

In the meantime, between the date when I first wrote the first sentence to this morning when I approved the last correction on the book jacket, I raised my daughter from teenage hood to adulthood. I designed and had built a new home. I took flying lessons. I traveled to foreign countries. I got a divorce. I moved to the mountains in Colorado. I fell in love. I moved to Texas and finally finished the book.

I did not sit on my hands while working and not working on this book. I discovered myself and rediscovered myself. I entered relationships that pulled me in directions I didn't know existed before. And I fell in love. Again and again and again. I fell in love with the mountains, and then I fell in love with McKinney, Texas and the people here. I also fell in love with my daughter all over again. And with all these experiences I fell in love with the best parts of me.

I love me. I truly, truly love me. I am capable of the grandest of lives, the utmost bliss, and the most amazing experiences. I walk through this life knowing that all is well at all times. I open my eyes to the joy, my heart to the love, and my arms to the ability to give. I am. I am. I am.

And nothing more needs to be written.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009


December 2, 2009, my last change made to the book jacket. Manuscript already in print. One more look over on the jacket and off it goes. Healing Grace becomes reality. How 'bout that?

Since I was a little kid I wanted to be a writer. I was a writer. In fourth grade I wrote my first novel. The main character had all of her parts replaced with bionic ones. Interesting that it turned into a show years later, and it had nothing to do with me. Or, did it? The more I know, the more I don't know. I sit and ponder the workings of the universe, and I know for a fact that I know nothing. It's all a complete mystery to me. As a matter of fact, this morning on the way into the square, I wondered what would happen if we all collectively decided to disavow the belief in time and space. Since we were taught from the beginning that there are such things, what would happen now if we all simultaneously chose to disbelieve in them? If thought is matter, then what would happen?

I digress. I can, you know. It's my blog. It's my portion of cyberspace and I can do anything I want in here. I imagine myself, a particle of myself floating around in what could possibly look like cyberspace. The particle that is me, whatever that is. I know that me is not my body, so therefore, there is a me that is not limited by time or space. There is a me, the real me, in a formless energy that defies all laws concerning time and space. And if that's the real me, then what's the fake me doing pretending to be smaller? I sit here silently, and now not so silently, concerned about book tours, marketing strategies, talking in front of people, self-promoting, etc. Will I be able to do it? Will I go crazy from it? Will I...? What the fuck difference does it make? I am this formless, timeless, spaceless being capable of all and nothing at the same time. I can let this book go, let it out into the universe without doing a thing about it, without thinking twice about it, and it will still land perfectly where it needs to. What do I care? Hm, programming. I see how the programming catches me up every now and then, so much more than I care to admit really.

The programming, the beliefs, the societal rules, the guidelines...just trappings to keep us small. If we really knew who we are. I mean if we really knew, we wouldn't care about any of those things. We wouldn't hide ourselves behind masks or phoniness. We would display ourselves in full glory, ride that train, leap off that cliff, and savor the moments of ecstasy because it would all be ecstasy, even the sorrow, even the depths of despair. If we really knew who we are, we would be scared of nothing, judge nothing, and relish in it all.

So, with that, I release my second novel out to the universe, knowing full well that it is right where it needs to be. It's released, and so am I.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Author Pictures for Book Jacket!!

Finally the book jacket is being completed. I just need to do the author bio and book description.

Here are some of the pictures of the photo shoot with Jim Butchee, the extraordinary hair stylist also. For those of you who haven't seen my new do, this is the man responsible for it.

I love Jim. I sit in his studio chair while he works on my hair and sip wine from Lone Star Winery. Today I even picked up my first two bottles from the wine club. For those who know me, I got a bottle of the Big Red! Woo hoo!! Rubye, the bartender on Wednesday and Friday evenings turned me onto it, and I have a glass of it as often as I can. We get a free glass of wine every day and even one for a guest, so I imbibe a few times a week.

Lone Star Winery is just down W. Virginia from the RejuveNation LifeSpa about a block. It's a casual walk down there after a day in the spa. We always run into people we know and end up staying a long time eating snacks and talking. Just once though, I'd love for everyone to call out my name when I walk in. At least yell out, "Norm!"
Now back to the shoot. Jim trimmed up my hair again to get rid of what was left of the red. I've been red for so many years -- and blond and purple, but I did something so outrageously drastic. I went natural. Yep, I was a little surprised to see what colors my hair really are. I've got everything from black to silver, brown to blond. Who knew? Do you know how amazing it is to not have to deal with coloring my roots every few weeks? I have time now for other things like finishing the book jacket.
So, first was the photo shoot. I'm wearing Jim's denim shirt, my daughter's pink sweater and a friend's necklace. Jim didn't like the shirt I bought for the shoot. It was too busy, so off it went and my daughter gave me hers. When Jim pulled a denim shirt off his coat rack, I was ready for the pictures.

My jacket cover is the color of the Dalai Llama's robes, so I'm throwing in a touch of blue and pink, not to mention gray.

The picture we chose is beautiful. Jim's going to crop it so not much of the clothing shows at all. We took the pictures in an abandoned garage about a block from the spa. It was a gorgeous day with a gorgeous man and my gorgeous daughter. I couldn't have picked a better day if I had tried.
So, as soon as I get all the writing done for the jacket and send the publisher the chosen picture, then the book will be completed. It's almost done. It's almost done. It's almost done. What an amazing feat.
In the time that I've been writing it, I've moved twice, changed careers three times, got divorced, took up flying, and started a whole new life in McKinney, Texas.

Oh yeah, and I stopped dyeing my hair.

One more thing, the book's called Healing Grace, in case you didn't know, and you'll be able to purchase it from Amazon as soon as I get it done.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

It's a wonderful world.

I'm on my last read through. I feel like I've been saying this for years. Every time I finish editing this manuscript I think it's done, but then it returns with a message to read through it one more time. I've been putting this last read-through off for so long it's pathetic. There's no excuse. And today I'm feeling too sluggish to physically move my entire body, so it's a great time to get this done.

I'm sitting in my daughter's RejuveNation LifeSpa on the square in McKinney, Texas with a kitten sprawled across the table with a paw resting on the keyboard. Moo the dog is curled up under my chair and "Over the Rainbow" is playing on the radio while I type this, the reggae version that's mixed with "What a Wonderful World." I can't keep my foot from tapping on the hardwood floor.

And, yes, I'm really and truly reading this manuscript for the very last time before it grows up to be a book. That's what I've been told -- if there's no further corrections. Oh, sweet Jesus, let this be the perfect version.

Anyway, while reading I ran across this paragraph that took my breath away. It's lovely when that happens to me, when something I've written sparks something within me that touches me deeply.

And, when I read something I've written and I'm moved by how it's written. The writer in me jumps for joy. It's a moment when I want to toast to myself for allowing whatever force there is to work it's magic through me.

I came across such a paragraph at the end of a chapter where Grace, the main character, is interacting with her long-time husband. I love how the words speak volumes of what is way too common in long relationships:

"She looked into Jack's eyes, at the little flecks of brown around his irises. She felt the burn of his hands on her shoulders and his breath on her cheek. There had been a time that being this close to Jack would have melted her knees. Now she felt badly, horribly guilty, that being this near to him only made her gasp, for she had never noticed before the tiny lines crisscrossing alongside his eyes or the fresh gray in his sideburns."

* * * * *

And now it's been days since I wrote the above entry, but today, 9-9-09, at 5:16 I sent my last digital proof to the publishers. In a while (I don't know when.) I'll receive the first printed version of it to read through again before it gets sent out into the world.

This has been so long in coming. So long. I would have normally spent at least a few moments beating myself up about how long I've procrastinated, how long I've spent NOT doing what I knew I needed to do to get it done. Instead, something else very magical happened. I spent the last read-through while sitting in a business in the square of downtown McKinney, Texas, which is surprisingly very much like the town described in my novel. I wrote this book long before I ever divorced, left my husband, quit working in his office, moved to the mountains in Colorado, and finally moved to this small town-like city where I work in the coolest building on the square with my daughter.

What's most astonishing about this is that I wrote the main character's story long before it became my own. The book is based in a fictional town called Langsberry, Colorado where the main events center around the square where the people work and play and some live. While re-reading the manuscript I felt as if I was reading about the town I live in now and reading about my life now, years after writing the words I had been reading. If I had finished this all those years ago, I would have never had the magical experience I had today.

So, I wonder is there really such a thing as procrastination or is it perfect timing instead? Who says the book was meant to be finished any sooner than right now? Who says there's anything wrong with allowing a manuscript to go untouched for years before completing it? Who says? Not me anymore. Now I know better. I showed up. I just showed up and the magic happened. How beautiful is that?

And today I was gifted by a lovely man with a download of a song I absolutely love, a song that I've wanted to have for many years now, but didn't even know the name of the singer. That very song happens to be the song I wrote about listening to at the beginning of this post. Now I'll be tapping my foot on the hardwood floor in RejuveNation LifeSpa on a regular basis, because now I have "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/It's a Wonderful World" on my computer because of him.

It really is a wonderful world and I feel as though I've discovered the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Again.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Party like it's 2009!

Somewhere in cyberspace is echoes of my screaming. It's been a month since my last post. In that month, I've helped my daughter move her office into a new and wonderful space downtown McKinney. I now officiate the goings-on around the place. What a privilege for me.

And -- my computer got a virus. When I'm incapacitated like that with a sick computer, it's amazing how drastically my life is altered. Without my computer in the morning before going to the spa, I now rely on West Wing for entertainment while sipping my coffee and eating an English muffin. Who knew that that show had such great writing? Not me, until now.

I'm still not laptop working. I'm on my daughter's computer at RejuveNation LifeSpa, her new place of play (and mine, I might add). Without a working laptop, I've watched more Bravo TV than I care to admit. I've written far less than I care to think about. However, I have gotten a bit more sleep.

It's 7:38 at night. We're still at the spa. Alyssa just finished with her last patients, and she's now seeing what she can do to get my laptop resuscitated. If she's not healing humans, she's working on computers. Amazing...

I'm writing. I am writing. Even if I did nothing more than type that I'm writing, I'm still writing. It feels so good.


Saturday there was a woman who went ballistic when she and another driver tapped bumpers. This occurred right in front of the RejuveNation LifeSpa. There were two officers on foot and two on horseback that chased her down to handcuff her. I got a front row seat at the spa. Cindy and I were setting up for her talk on targeting fat loss when I heard a loud thud and away went the horses and police officers right in front of our French doors. Exciting stuff in downtown McKinney. Still not sure why she went ballistic. The newspaper had no idea either. Maybe Friday when the next edition comes out we'll get a peak at the sequel.

After the talk and the wonderful lunch that Cindy Goldman prepared, I got the Gratitude Cafe ready for a jamming session with local talent. Once those mics were set up, I couldn't help myself. Well really after a few glasses of wine, I couldn't help myself. I sang my heart out, and I apologize to all that were subjected to it. I had a blast though. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who were involved. It won't be our last time to jam. Lorenzo played his bongo drums and offered to sit in during other sessions. There was Sonya and Murphy who were just walking down the street when they heard us and of course joined our merriment. We danced, sang, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

I am fifty-two years old, and I have to say, I have never enjoyed myself as much as I have since living here. Every day is such a grand adventure, just a great kick in the butt. I've made friends for life. I've partied more than in college, if that's at all possible, and I've loved greatly. Immensely. Constantly.

I am so grateful. No other words are necessary.

Sunday, July 5, 2009


Once upon a time I was a writer, then I became a wife and mother and office manager, and chauffeur and cook and cleaning lady...

And now I'm a writer again. God, it feels good. When I'm not writing, I'm thinking about what I'm going to write about next. Every event in my life is potential postings or stories. I love it. It feeds me like nothing else. Even when I do my art, I think in terms of words -- how to display them in fibers or paint them on fabric. It's always been about the words. Always.

Last night I sang words loud and I'm sure, way off key, but it felt so good. And then after coming home, I got to use my words in a soft mushy juicy way. And that felt oh so good. To be able to have both experiences in the same night was phenomenal. It was truly a celebration of my life as it should be. I deserve to be treated like I was last night (and this morning). I deserve to be treasured and looked at and touched with such gentleness. It was an act of honoring my divinity with others and then one other.

This, my friends, is what life is all about. Singing at the top of my lungs, dancing to my heart's content, and then being ravaged in total abandon.

Monday, June 29, 2009

My Bo

I just got off the phone with a friend. We talked for almost an hour, and now I miss him in a way that I haven't before.

When he was telling me about his writing, I wished I was with him while he was reading it to me. He used to do that last fall when we were together. We'd make love and then get up to watch some sports on T.V. He'd make his way over to the dining room table where his laptop was and read me his poetry. I remember laying on the couch wrapped in my robe and sinking into his words. I remember relishing the sound of his voice as the words curled around my ears.

I miss him.

When he was talking to me tonight, I wished I was laying next to him with my head on his chest while he read me the poems he wrote that day.

I miss him.

I envisioned us writing near each other, and when taking breaks reading out loud the words we'd just written. Or sitting in front of a fire reading great novels and being so excited about the words we'd have to read them to each other.

God, here I go being a crazy teenager in love. Well, not exactly. With him it's always been this calmness, and tonight was smooth. Tonight was silk. Tonight was a soft melody that just flowed effortlessly, and it felt so good. It just felt so good. It was quiet and relaxing and fluid. It was what I didn't know was possible to even dream about.

I really miss him. I want him back in my life. I want to lay down beside him when I'm tired and limp after lovemaking. I want to sip wine with him while flipping through a book of poetry. I want to run my hand through his hair when he holds me. I want to hear his voice while he reads to me.

How did this happen? I was living here in McKinney, Texas with a million things going on, amazingly wonderful things going on with a plethora of new friends and excitement at every turn, and then he calls me a few weeks ago, and I haven't been the same since.

There are still a million things going on with a million new friends, but now after talking with him, there is this desire for something more. A desire that goes very deeply into the core of who I am. Our conversation tonight stirred that center, moved something within me that's altered me forever. I don't know what it is, but it feels like something I've been waiting my whole life for.

I feel like I've been playing at being myself until this conversation tonight. It was as if he had the key that unlocked a secret compartment in me, and that part of me that has been well hidden has now been let loose. I can never be who I was before that phone call tonight. I am different now. Just listening to his voice reminded me who I really am. He is the siren calling me home, and home is not a place. It's a way to be.

I remember now why it was so easy watching sports with him. It was calming. It was effortless. It was intoxicating. I'm not a sports fan at all. I've never watched sports on T.V. until he came over to my home last fall and had to see his games. I was surprised I wasn't upset by it. I would've been with any other man, but now I know that with Bo it was just the most natural thing in the world as was making love, drinking wine, being in the library, walking, and kissing.

Just being with Bo, and now just thinking about him, I feel this resolute calming effect wash over me. It's tranquilizing. What is in him that affects me like this? I've never been calm about a man before. I've always been crazy and overcome and stupid. This is so different that I discounted it, but what if it's the realest thing I've ever had?

Friday, June 26, 2009

Back again...

I emailed a friend that I would work on my last edit of Healing Grace today. So far I haven't, but I have had a meeting with a new business partner to set up a date, time, and place where we will talk with prospective clients about joining us.

I washed the sheets, towels, and quilt. Yippee!! Clean sheets for tonight! I love crawling under the sheets when they're freshly washed. Yum...

And I gave the dog a bath. That's always such a huge accomplishment.

So, I still need to work on the final read-through and set a meeting with another business partner to go over a business plan for a separate business venture.

It feels like I've got so many irons in the fire, but what's really wonderful is how they're coming together and meshing into one big conglomerate. I couldn't have figured this one out if I had tried. Nor, would I have wanted to.

It seems the lesson here, as always for me, is to let go and truly trust the magnificence around me to bring the right people, places, and circumstances into my life. Things have been gelling for a while now, but recently people have been coming together in amazing ways, so it's time to put it all into action.

Do I dare blog about it yet?

There's still so many meetings to go to and details to work out yet that I think I'll just let it ride for now. I'm just so thrilled about the wonderment of it all.

Friends have circled back into my life and it just feels so good. One friend is Bo. I am still shocked that we've been communicating so much lately. He was a new friend in Steamboat right before I left. I was so intent on leaving that I'm not sure that I ever took our friendship to be anything more, to have any lasting significance. Not that I know that now either, but here we are in different states and we're talking and emailing and it's wonderful.

What I needed when I left Steamboat was to create a new life totally different from what I had built there. I needed action, networking, moving and shaking, high energy, flowers year 'round, no snow, wide open spaces, a wide variety of culture and arts, a metroplex and yet a place with a small town feel. I have that here. I also have friends with colorful backgrounds, stories that have made my hair stand on end, friends who create adventures without thinking twice about it. I am surrounded by the friendliest people who wear beautiful shoes and sandals and aren't in Tevas and Columbias all the time. I'm surrounded by people who don't look like they just stepped out of a sporting goods store. Lots of women here wear dresses and heels and make-up and lots of chunky jewelry. After 34 years in Colorado, I'm mesmerized by it. Not that Denver area was so different than this, but coming from a mountain town, I'm just a bit shell-shocked.

I have worn make-up a couple of times. I've yet to blow dry my hair. I'm still wearing my Keen sandals, but I'm more often in a skirt than jeans mainly because it's just too hot for the denim.

I needed the time to immerse myself in big city life, to experience what I haven't, to try out a different lifestyle, and then allow myself to come back around to something that could possibly last through months of separation. I listen to Bo and read his emails and I want more of them. I want more of him. I appreciate him, the man he shows me he is. I love reading his words. I love how they make me feel, so I'm just allowing myself to be open to whatever this could possibly be rather than saying it's over because we live in two different states, geographically speaking, because in another sense our states are very together.

Another recent rekindled friendship is with Michelle. I've missed her so much, but yet knew, just knew, that it would all come back around. It was just a matter of the right circumstances presenting itself, the ability for her to determine who she really is and how she wanted to be. Once she got really clear on it, the door opened for our paths to meet so beautifully again. I so look forward to having her as a business associate as well as a dear, dear friend.

I know the universe has this perfect orchestration of people and circumstances that ebb and flow in my life. I know how easily the right things show up in perfect timing, so why do I feel edges of panic when I don't know what's going on? Why has it been even slightly necessary for me to feel the need to know? When will it be so effortless to just let go and swing in the flow of it all on a regular basis?

When will the lessons be learned?

Or, will they never all be learned fully and completely? Is this the reason I am here? To learn, grow, evolve, expand? Over and over and over?

No matter what the answers, I have wonderful friends to do it all with, and I'm thrilled to have them back in my life. The trip is so much more fun because of it.

Monday, June 22, 2009

A Father's Day Wedding in Chestnut Square

Here's to the most adorable bridal couple I have ever seen in my life -- Jenna and Jason Howard. They got married yesterday on Father's Day at an historical home in Chestnut Square in McKinney, TX. I plied Jenna with alcohol so that I could switch my catering apron for her dress. These pictures don't do the dress or her justice. They are both gorgeous. And have you ever seen a happier groom? Here's a head-on shot of the two, Jenna and her dress. Oh, and her groom. The pin on her sash is from her great-grandmother. There wasn't enough alcohol in the place to get her to relinquish that dress. Jenna, you were such a great sport about it, but is there any way that I could inherit it?
I've often thought of writing another novel based loosely on my experiences here in McKinney, and if I did, I would write about that dress. The main character would be wearing it during an auspicious occasion, I promise you that. And then, of course, I'd have great stories about each of the buildings in town with all the ghosts that run freely through them. I've never seen a more "haunted" town than this one. It seems every building has a spirit of some kind that makes itself known.
I don't know the history behind this house. I'm only aware that some of these houses in Chestnut Square have been moved there to create this historical village. This is the house where the reception took place, and where Cyndy Long and I catered. Cyndy is a writer herself. She's got several projects in the works right now. Her tea shop is filled with ghosts. Just last week one "bumped" into me while waiting for his train. He stood so close to me, I couldn't see his right arm. He was dressed in a long black coat, black pants, and brown pointed-toe shoes, looking straight ahead as if he were looking at the train schedule posted on what used to be the train depot wall. He was holding a brown suitcase in his left hand and wearing a black derby hat.

Seeing and hearing ghosts in this town has become something that I'm used to, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't still give me chills. After seeing this guy next to me, I heard a woman's voice in the kitchen of the tea shop. That's when I decided it was time for me to be done for the morning. Yikes!
A friend of mine named Jack said I was drinking on the job or smoking something at the tea shop. However, he never would go into the shop with me either. So, Jack, who's smoking now? It's certainly not me.

Here's the inside of the house where the reception was. Look at those 5-pane doors. I tried to get my builder to put those in my last house, but nothing doing. I wanted those doors with glass knobs for handles. I am a sucker for vintage. Above the piano are black and white pictures of McKinney, I think. You can tell I do a lot of research before posting my blogs. Hey, I got the bride's and groom's names right, maybe.

These pictures just don't show the character in this house. You're not able to see the magnificent old floors. I don't know why I didn't take pictures of the antique furniture either, and these pictures show the reception after it's over and most of the decorations are down, including the table in the front room that was decorated with the beautiful wedding cake. At the end of a catering gig I can't be responsible for getting great shots and knowing what I'm taking pictures of, but one thing's for sure. I had a spectacular time, met some of the best people in the world, and am aiming to get myself one beautiful dress.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Great Expectations

Healing Grace is about expectations, the expectations we place on ourselves and those we think others place on us. Who do we become because we think we're supposed to be a certain way?

I remember feeling that so acutely in high school, so conscious of how others perceived me. Just walking into a room alone made me cringe because I knew that all eyes were focused on me and how I walked, looked, moved. Really? How in the hell could I have ever come to that conclusion? But it's still those crazy expectations I have about others and situations in my life that keep throwing me. I've discovered that I assume a certain action means a certain outcome. Dear god, where in the world did I get that assumption?

I create people in my head through my thoughts. I look at a man and determine what he is really like and how he will act towards me, and when those expectations aren't met, I'm so surprised. Shocked really. Now, here's the thing, I know better. I know that people are not going to live up to my expectations, but most importantly, why do I even have them anymore? I know better!

I recently got another lesson of a lifetime last night when I discovered that a company and their former consultant were lashing out at each other through cyberspace. I had held both the company and the consultant in such high esteem, that I was mortified, devastated really, when I read the emails blasting the other. That's why I say "former" consultant. The marriage ended bitterly.

One's accusing the other and it's just ugly. I felt like I had to hose myself off after reading the emails. Neither side looks appealing to me. And the friend that got me involved with the company told me things about the former consultant that hung in the air like rabid bacteria. It made me want to throw up.

None of it feels good, looks good, or smells good. None of it. Today I want to just stay in with my daughter's dog and curl up on the couch with my laptop. I want to write all day. I want to be away from people and just breathe.

I would've staked my life on the integrity of both the company and this man that used to work with them. It doesn't matter who's telling the truth. To me, it's about how I expected them to be -- ethical, honest, and forthright, and neither of them seemed that way in the emails. I expected them to be a certain way, and when they showed me otherwise, I felt betrayed. Hm, another lesson has reared its head. Just a constant loop of lesson after lesson after lesson. Lovely.

So, is the moral of the story to have no expectations about people? To allow them to show up however they choose, observe the circumstances and behavior, and just let it be???

What a concept. To allow. To just flow with whatever is in front of me. To dance on shifting carpet, as Tom Crum has taught me.

Whew! This feels like a big one for me. I see that when mastering this I will no longer be at the mercy of others to determine how I feel. I would love to say that I'm already just a happy, fulfilled person no matter what goes on around me, but that would be a lie. I've seen myself ride on the roller coaster of emotions lately, feeling up when hearing what I wanted and plummeting when I didn't. Oh paleeeese!!!

Can I just get myself out of that friggin' high school yet? It's been 35 years since those days. Graduate already. Move the fuck on! It's time to grow up, be a big girl, and allow others to do whatever they want in the world and for me to not change who I am because of it.

We all came here to play the roles we're playing, so why get upset when people are doing just that? Oh, it's that amnesia thing -- I keep forgetting that we are not these meat suits, as James Arthur Ray says. We are spiritual beings having human experiences. We're here to play together, to stir up shit, to clean it out, and to do it all over again in different circumstances with different people. Woo hoo! Lucky us! Celebrate the fact that we're doing just that. We are stirring the pot. We are creating chaos, and we're doing it magnificently. Mission accomplished over and over and over.

Now, if I can just keep remembering that.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Life is good.

Since this blog is named after my book, I've decided to devote it to my writing life.

I've always been a writer. I've never stopped seeing scenes and characters in my head, but I have stopped writing for most of my adult life. I cranked out insurance claim forms for a chiropractor husband that is no longer the husband. I wrote Healing Grace late at night after getting my work done at his office. I would send a chapter a week to my best friend from high school who pushed me into writing my novel when I just knew I had no time for anything else in my life, so the book's dedicated to her. Terry Tucker McBeth. She believed in me when no one else did, including myself.

So, now I write all the time. I had become a fiber artist while married and then took on a clothing line while single in Steamboat. Hm...the name of the next novel perhaps -- Single in Steamboat. Rumor has it that you don't meet your mate in Steamboat. Just doesn't happen. You ski, bike, hike, get drunk, and do it all over again, but meeting a mate? Nah, doesn't happen. However, I know a few women who did. And I too met someone there -- a writer no less. I had never dated a writer before, much less slept with one. He read me poetry before making love. He wrote poetry about me, and I too wrote one about him. I've never done poetry except in college where it was mandatory.

Now, I write all the time. Did I say that already? It's been so long since it's true that I had to repeat it. I love saying it, and I love doing it. It makes me sing. I lap it up like my dog does water after our long walks in the mornings. While I'm taking him down these beautiful streets filled with flowerbeds and trees, I imagine people's lives behind the closed doors of their houses. I see them awakening, turning over to their partners and slipping out of bed. One man would be rushing off to check his Blackberry to see how many emails and voice mails he got from his illicit lover. Another perhaps leaning over his wife and kissing her on the forehead before getting up, while yet another tiptoes out of the room with his bags already packed in his car and intending to speed off to Mexico without turning back.

And then there are the women in the houses. What magnificently boring lives they could possibly have. Treacherous, tedious, or decadent. No matter what it is, it'd be hidden. The secrets that lie between lovers...

I remember what it's like to have a lover. It was just last November 10th to be exact. I wonder though, if the parts aren't used, does a woman get reborn into a virgin? Besides my marriage, this could be the longest drought I've ever had. The barren wasteland. The desert. The dry period. However, it's felt anything but dry. It's been moist with discovery and enchantment. New experiences have abounded, especially with James Arthur Ray from The Secret. Every event I've been to has expounded on sexual energy. They've been ripe with sexual tension as he pushed us to expand and grow. That heightened energy is the core of manifesting my dreams. Sexual energy is synonymous with manifestations. Kundalini. Creation. Becoming new. It's all from the beginning, the oneness, the joining of us all. It's the sexual energy that brings about rebirth, transformation, enlightenment because it's sexual energy that is at the core of creation. Without sexual energy and mergings of the souls, life here would be stagnant. It's in the mergings that we become more of who we really are because we are one with others, and how better to feel it physically than through sex?

As in all things here in the universe, it's a double-edged sword due to the law of polarity. We live in a world of duality, and therefore, it's important to be conscious of who we merge with. Our energy exchanges aren't always sacred. Pay close attention next time you're with someone intimately. How do you feel? How does your body feel? Do you get lost in ecstasy or is there a knot in your stomach? Are the feelings you feel related to being with your partner or more how you feel about yourself? Are you unwilling to let go with a magnificent partner? Do you feel deserving of such a miraculous adventure, or are you feeling the dissonance between you and your partner's energy?

The universe always provides you with mirrors. Everyone in your life and every situation that shows up is a mirror to help you see what's really going on within you. Everything is so perfect, so pay attention to what's being said to you, how you're resonating or not with others. Whatever doesn't feel good is a signal to you that something needs to be remedied. Everything that does feel good is a gauge to let the universe know what you want more of.

What feels good to me again is writing. What feels good to me again is the writer that showed up in my life again. What feels good to me is thinking of the amazing sexual memories we have together. Being with him felt good, and believe me, good is such an understatement.

This is my gauge. These are the signals I look for as I venture through my life. I consciously choose to feel good, so I walk towards those things that make me feel good.

When I write or think about making love with this man, I vibrate in joy, in passion, in ecstasy. Those emotions are high vibrations and they signal the universe to hurry up and bring me more of the same and more of the same and more of the same. So, as I write more ideas of what to write and how to write and characters to write about and lives to portray, scenarios to write about show up in multitudes. Trainloads of them pile into the house I call my mind and I can't type fast enough to get it all down. It's euphoria at its finest. It's bliss beyond compare, and the more I live in those feelings the more I make space for more and more and more.

It's the way life is meant to be lived. Peaceful. Tranquil. With ease and grace. Downstream. is good.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Just another side trip down memory lane

Here's the deal. I am Jill Luigs, writer of a book called Healing Grace that's coming out this year. Look for it on Amazon. Grace James is the name of my heroine. I love that word. It just sounds so wrong for the main character of a novel, but there you have it.

I really tried to write this blog from Grace's point of view, but you know what? I have too much to say to remain quiet.

I wrote this novel many years ago, back when I kept my silence. There was a long period of my life that I felt muted about my own feelings and just trashed out angry words about nothing. How do we get ourselves into those situations? I look back on that time of my life and realize that I blindly followed the dictates of another. I woke in the mornings with a to-do list a mile long of things someone else needed me to do for him. I bought that bill of goods for most of my life. Now I'm putting together a life made up of moments of doing what I feel led to do. The thing of it is, I feel led to write a lot. It's as if words come tumbling out because they've been bottled up for years. I write every day. I write and write and write. And when I don't write, I talk. The words never stop. They spill forth because there's no way to contain them anymore.

Now I get paid to use those words. Thank you, Jesus! I can now get paid for the words that spew out into cyberspace. I now live a life authentic to me. Woo hoo! What a concept. Who knew?

And because of that I've had people pour into my life to help me in every way possible. This morning before 10:00 I had two "new" men in my life doing business with me in ways I would have never thought of before, but here they are and we're making magic together. Again, woo hoo!

And -- drumroll please! -- there's been another development that really took me by surprise, and it's appropriate that I'm writing about him on Grace's blog because he's a writer. He showed up in Steamboat Springs, CO the month I left. He sat at the table next to me in the library. We were both "writing" if I recall correctly, but instead I think we were basking in the chemistry between us. I had an appointment I couldn't change so I wasn't able to stay and get to know him better then, but it didn't take long to discover so many things about him.

He met most of my friends. We went out several times. We had a very memorable evening at a table in a local restraunt that was continued outside and then in the driveway of the home where I was staying and finally in my bedroom. Let me just say that this man is good. I won't go any further. It will be left up to your imagination what that means, but he is really good.

The last I had heard from him was Christmas day until last Sunday. Out of the blue he called me, and I haven't been able to stop thinking of him since. Suddenly I remember what we did together as if it were last night or even just a moment ago. I remember what his bare chest looked like hovering above me, how his biceps bulged as he held himself up. I remember what it was like to curl up in his arms in my bed and how he stroked my back as he held me. I remember the feel of his chest hair on my cheek as I laid my head on it. I remember how he picked me up and carried me to my bed the last night we were together in Steamboat. He had helped me move my studio into the U-haul all day, and then he gave me a night I will never forget. Ever.

And for whatever reason he called me last Sunday after 6 months of not hearing from him. How nice...

Now, back to my words. I apparently needed a little side trip down memory lane. I couldn't help myself, but now I'm back. Oh yes, my words. Hm, I'm having a little difficulty concentrating on words at the moment. Suddenly they've become unnecessary. I think I'm going to just go back on the side trip I just came back from, because I don't think that little vacation has come to end quite yet.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Healing Grace

Big doings in the old town tonight. The author of my biography has completed the last edit and sent in the corrections. The book now goes to print. Since she wrote the book ten years have passed. What was she waiting for? Who knows? Definitely not her.

The book is called Healing Grace written by Jill Luigs. Jill wanted to write the book because my story's similar to hers. There's a big difference in our stories though. She got divorced. The biggest similarity is that we both gave our lives over to men. We both sacrificed ourselves for men. We both blamed them for years until after leaving them, we both discovered that our propensities for martyrdom was still prolific. We still found our beliefs holding us back -- we were undeserving of anything more. We had to sacrifice to make up for the oxygen we used. That's how little we felt about ourselves, and because of that we kept sacrificing. It was easier than going deep within and discovering who we really are. It was easier because it was familiar, and then it just got hard to see what we were missing out on.

We were missing out on feeling good about ourselves. We were missing out on enjoying our lives and experiencing our new-found freedom. We were missing out on being a great friend to ourselves. Most importantly we were depriving the world of our own greatness. What a waste that was.

That's when the magic began. The magic of self-discovery. The magic of self-awareness. The magic of inner guidance rather than seeking wisdom from others. It also took many days of barely getting out of bed and endless nights of tears. You have no idea what wailing and gnashing of teeth was really like until you saw the two of us go through our own metamorphoses. The term "dark night of the soul" had been coined because of our own experiences. As Jill put it, it was digging out of her own grave after years of shoveling shit into it. She told her husband back then that the death us do part had happened and leaving him brought her back to life. Can I hear a thank you, Jesus???

So, the book will be published before the year is over. Jill has gone on to other endeavors and you'll be able to read about my life in Healing Grace. Ten years have passed since the ending of the book, so just know that a lot's happened since. Maybe I can talk Jill into a sequel so she can tell the other part of my story. The part where I took the level of freedom to new heights. It would be well worth the read.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

To delete or not to delete --

I've written and rewritten this post. I've sweated bullets over it. What do I say? I always feel like I'm being auditioned here. But who exactly is the one auditioning me? I'm sitting alone on my couch at 2:26 in the morning. I see no one. All the lights are off in the square. It's the most silent it ever gets around here at this time of the year especially when softball has kicked into gear and the fans are roaring and the lights are blaring. It's a very early Sunday morning, and there's not a peep around here, not a flicker in a window. It is silent and motionless.

I'm still writing and deleting like crazy. I think of something to say, then decide I don't want to keep it, pressing the backspace button to wipe it clean again. I love that. Really, wouldn't it be so great to delete anything else in your life that easily? Credit card debt. Delete. Dirty clothes. Delete. Dog poo. Delete.

I've been flipping through the channels while typing and deleting when I finally hit upon a winner -- No Way Out with Kevin Costner. Dear God, Kevin looks like he must be 19 years old and 5" wide. I love how men add a thickness to themselves as they age. I like the fuller faces, the wider waists and flat stomachs. Give them a touch of gray at their temples and a few lines at the corner of their eyes, and I'm a happy girl. Slip one under me and I'm even happier.

Now that statement makes me sound like I'm pretty loose. The fact of the matter is that I'm the farthest from being loose. I'm in a small town that has binoculars on anything loose, and I steer clear of that. When I left my husband ten years ago, you would've thought I killed someone, lied about it, covered it up, and then killed all those who suspected me. Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little, but this town's a lot like living in a fishbowl. If you don't want to be found out, then don't do it in Langsberry.

It's now 3:17 in the morning and finally my eyelids are getting heavy. Not even Kevin Costner can keep them up. Now, maybe if it was the Kevin in For Love of the Game or even Upside of Anger, but get him any younger than that and I'm not nearly as interested. I want a man of substance.

So, I'm going to get this posted before I decide to delete it. I'm too tired to keep rewriting. This has got to do. I'm letting go of the idea that this could lead to a Pulitzer or at least a great audition.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Welcome to Langsberry!

It's the town where everyone wants to go, located in the midst of the Rocky Mountains. The downtown is the square that wraps around a softball field. Go figure...

What kind of town memorializes their town with a softball field? And what was the draw for me? I'm going to claim ignorance, innocence, dumb blindness.

I came here as a young pup still in college, wanting to belong to a family -- any family apparently because I jumped into one that was the most difficult I could've conceived of, if only I thought about it at the time. Unfortunately, I wasn't thinking.

I showed up as a young college girl who'd been orphaned for two years, blindsided by a good-looking man who gave me attention, and made me feel like I could belong to a family again. Little did I know that the family I would belong to had nothing to do with him or his own family. Instead I became a family member of Langsberry, of the women in this town. I became linked in, loved on, and lavished alot by the fabulous women who wrapped me up in their love.

Now, twenty plus years later, I dropped the husband and created a new family with the girls. Not that I'm not looking for a tight squeeze with a wonderful man. I just haven't located the right one yet. I'm still learning how to be the right one myself. Once I get a grip on that one, then maybe, just maybe I'll be ready for the right one. And who knows, it could still be my husband.

Let's just say that I'm not holding my breath.