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.

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.

So...

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.

Ahh...

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.