I spent a considerable amount of time today (five minutes) considering where I should post this event: facebook or blog, facebook or blog, facebook or blog, facebook or blog. Facebook would be so much faster and I wouldn’t have to notify anybody of it’s posted state, but blog would give it longevity, blog would give it a spotlight, blog would give it a URL. (Yup, all that in just 5 minutes!)

So, I logged on to wordpress for the first time in months to share this life-changing experience with you.

This morning I had a hankerin’ for Rice Krispies with banana slices for breakfast. Not sure why. It’s just a feeling I get a couple times a year. Luckily I had some leftover from the last Rice Krispie Treat splurge oh, from, like, Christmas. I figured they were stale and my craving would tragically go unsatisfied.

I plunged my fist in the bag for a handful anyway, and found, much to my surprise, No! They were only a little stale. Sweet! I’m in!

I poured a full bowl of the cereal. Then chose the perfect banana – it has to be all yellow with almost no black spots for this dish. Luckily I had one, which is where the hankering started in the first place.

Moving on (it would be a miracle if I just got to the point, wouldn’t it?), I began slicing the banana over the dry, only partially stale, Rice Krispies. After a few slices, I glanced down at the bowl to check my progress and almost fell over. What did I see?

“Oh my God! It’s a banana Stonehenge!” I exclaimed out loud and ran for the camera (because it might disappear if I didn’t catch it quick).

So I took these pics and at least a half dozen more and I just can’t stop marveling at the whole thing. I’m pretty sure this ranks up there with Jesus appearing on the toast.

Last Banana Standing

This must be a sign!

And I think I know what it means.

I caught this curious little guy pecking and poking and perfecting countless attempts at flying through the window despite getting knocked backwards every time. He didn’t seem phased by my presence just four feet away at the table inside, and he completely ignored my warnings that it was just not going to happen for him.

After witnessing several fearless efforts, I thought, “Does he really think he’s going to have a different outcome?” “Does he even remember the last one just 30 seconds ago?” “What is so mesmerizing about what he sees that he relentlessly keeps at it?” (I checked it out, and in his defense, the reflection is pretty convincing.) “Is he trying to tell me something?” And finally, after he’d been at it for almost an hour, “Is he ever going to give up?”

Over an hour later, he did finally give up. I regret I didn’t catch that moment on camera.

I admire the little guy, though, and not only for his yellow breast and indomitable spirit. For while he threw himself repeatedly into the alluring illusion when he had a wide open expanse of limitless fun and adventure right behind him if only he turned himself around, I couldn’t help but think that I have been guilty of the same… completely sober, I might add.

Green beer, anyone?!

This is what it looks like… Louis Armstrong style.

http://bit.ly/LArmstrongJoy

How often are you going there?

How often are you going there?

This blog started as a way for me to take action on something I’ve been wanting to do more, which is write. I wanted to see if I had anything to say, if people cared, if I could or would do it regularly, just what the heck would happen? Well, that part of the experiment is over. I’ve learned a lot: I love to write, I do have things to say, I can be kinda funny at times, and I want to write more.

Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. The connection with you this blog provides me is my favorite part of this whole thing.

So, here’s the deal: I have a story to write. I also have some other projects on the burner that are usurping my creative and time energy from this blog, though clearly that didn’t stop me from experimenting with a look change. What do you think? I still have some tweaking to do, but it begs the question: “Why change the look when you’re not going to blog anymore?”

“Well, I don’t want to stop blogging, that’s why.”

“Well, you have other projects to focus on right now.”

“Well…”

“Well, they are just going to continue haunting you until you give them the attention they want. And you can only do so much!”

“FINE!”

(There you have it folks: the voices in my head.)

So, I’m not sure what’s going to become of The TL Blog. I’m not getting rid of it (no matter what she says). It may continue to be stagnate for some time. It may morph into something else.

I still want to keep in touch with you all, twittering may be a better thing for me to do right now because it limits me to 140 characters (can you imagine?! Gosh, think of all the time I’ll be saving YOU!). You can follow me at www.twittter.com/totaliving.  I think I have my tweets showing up on the blog now, and I’m hoping the widget for subscribing to the blog works (you should be able to sign up to get alerts that a new post is up because really, you don’t want to miss the few and far between moments of inspiration, do you?).

So, that’s what’s new in 2010 so far.

Oh, I also got back on my bike in the dirt today after over a month! It was (cue the singing angels) HEAVEN! Even though I got my ass kicked. That’s it! Party’s over. Time to get back into the routine. Racing season starts in May and I’ve got some pony tails to chase down!

And speaking of routines. My brother Jonathan is doing a weightloss challenge with his buddies. They’re all doing their own thing to take the prize. Jonathan, hardly a pansy, has taken on the P90x. He’s blogging about it at www.p90xmarksthespot.blogspot.com. Check him out for a laugh, and you may just find yourself inspired. I know I am.

Love to you all!

h

So, I’m wondering if this is how Y2K must have felt when it didn’t do what it was supposed to do and the world just went on. Hmmph… well, at least I have an excuse. The day after Christmas I got hit with the worst case of what we thought was food poisoning but turned out to be the flu, that also hit 11 other family members that were together on Christmas Day.

Thankfully, it was a really fun day together.

Some of the merry, unsuspecting family on Christmas Day.

So, after five hours on the bathroom floor with what was the most pain I’ve felt since childbirth, I spent the next two and a half days laying in bed all day watching the whole first season of Gilmore Girls – that’s 21 episodes (I got the complete series on DVD thank you, Jonathan!) – and gaining a new appreciation for lemon-lime Gatorade and Jell-o without the vodka. It was so worth it! And the best part was (sorry, Therese), my daughter who was down from Oregon for the holiday, got sick too, so we were stuck in bed together!

Here’s the interesting thing (I know, it’s gonna be hard to top the Jell-o thing, but here goes): if I’m real honest with myself, secretly, down deep inside, I WANTED to spend 3 days in bed with Therese watching Gilmore Girls. There’s just no way I would have done it if I wasn’t forced by the gods who know me best. Without them (and the woman who contaminated my cousins on Christmas Eve), I would have continued at the frenzied yet productive pace I’ve kept for the last three months, spending my precious time with Therese gift card-shopping and party-throwing and people-visiting and activity-arranging, until I took her to the airport where she would have left me feeling like we didn’t have any “real” time together.

I’d like to think that next time, I’d just give myself permission to take a “well day” and spend the day in bed watching Gilmore Girls with Therese, no accompanying painful experience needed. Hmmm… maybe tomorrow.

A Happy, Healthy New Year to you!

Therese took this photo to commemorate our three days in bed together AND the lengthy comb-out session that followed.

It’s Day 8 and I find myself on Christmas Eve doing what I usually do on Christmas Eve: last minute shopping, baking, wrapping, fretting about gifts that haven’t arrived in the mail yet, and now worrying about getting my blogpost in. Best news is, I did this to myself. Excellent!

Stacie asked me at the beginning of this thing, “Why ten days?”

Truth is there is no reason. Ten is in the middle of the eight days of Chanukah and the twelve days of Christmas. It was neat and tidy, and at the time, it felt good.  That was in the part of my mind where I am organized and do things ahead of time and kick back and relax for the days leading up to Christmas (unfortunately, this part of my mind hasn’t figured out how to assert itself strongly enough yet – maybe 2010 will be the year!).

So, here’s to last minute everything and having it all work out… even if the gifts don’t arrive in time.

Love to you all!

Now she calls, “Mom!” from the TV room every ten minutes. “Are you done?” “Are you almost done?” So, I need to be done for the night.

Good luck on your shopping lists over the next two days! May you be comforted in your long-line waiting by the fact that you are NOT the woman talking incessantly to strangers about how your son has been ambidextrous from birth and is a switch hitter like Mickey Mantle, how if her boys marry a girl who doesn’t like their mother they’re not gettin’ a thing, how she gets up at 4:00 in the morning and has had coffee, breakfast, read the paper and done more things than most people do in a day by 9:00 AM when she’s out the door to go shopping, and how she’s been at Dick’s for 4 ½ hours trying things on, buying things mostly for herself today, and how her mom has been calling her and she keeps telling her 20 more minutes, so now she’s going to walk across to Pier One Imports and meet her there, and how she hopes she spent $600 because she wants two $150 cash cards, so if she’s $5 short, she’s gonna buy the football for the guy behind her, and how she can’t believe how long the line is. Every time she got out of the dressing room, it was longer and longer….

Thank you God I am NOT that woman – and that I was in line before her $600 checkout! (Though it seems to me she would probably remember the gifts she gave in the past, so who do I think I am?)

As I write this post, another extraordinary woman I know is encountering her last days on this plane. While it is an almost impossibly difficult time for the family, the feeling when I walk into their home is nothing but peace.

I’ve been going through photos for a Christmas gift the last few days. Yesterday, as I was making dinner for the family of the woman I just mentioned, I found this story in a frame among the old shoe boxes. I don’t imagine the sentiment makes going through a death any easier, but there is something that just feels right and good about it, like when you were told to eat your vegetables because they’re good for you. If you were like me, you hated most vegetables with a passion and stashed them in your napkin on the sly, but you always knew they were a part of life because they were good for you and you were going to have to accept that one day. (Okay, maybe not the best analogy, but I’m keeping it in.)

I’ve also found I cannot put into words exactly what I feel when someone I care about passes. This story most closely captures that spectrum for me so I don’t have to (even though I try anyway).

The story’s author is unknown, but I believe I first read it in the book, “Tuesdays With Morrie” by Mitch Albom.

For you, Eileen, whose presence is still felt here, and to you Pat, as you prepare for your next journey, and for all of us who are touched by you – in your living and dying:

Once, a little wave was bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time.  He was enjoying the wind and the fresh air – until he noticed the other waves in front of him.  They were crashing against the shore.

“My God, this is terrible,” the little wave said.  “Look what’s going to happen to me!”

Then along came another wave.  It noticed the first wave looking grim, so it said to him, “Why do you look so sad?”  The first wave cried out, “You don’t understand!  We’re all going to crash!  All of us waves are going to be nothing!  Isn’t it terrible?”

The second wave responded, “No, you don’t understand.  You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean.”

Amen.

* Blogpost title from Mary Oliver’s poem, “When Death Comes”.

Halfway into my ride, as I came down one of the rolling hills along the ridge, I saw an older couple walking up ahead in the middle of the fire road (there is at least 8 feet of space here), so I rang my bell, moved far to the left to go around them, and announced, “On your left!”

Before I even got to the left of the woman, she turned around holding a big stick (like four feet long for sure!) and waved it at me with a huge, crooked toothy scowl.

“You better watch out!” she hissed with her stick in the air.

“Oh my god!” I thought, as I felt, or imagined I felt, a rush of wind on my back that was her swinging the stick at me, which triggered a vivid sensory recollection of the time I was running down Marguerite Parkway and a carload of high school boys drove by and whacked me on the back with a whiffle ball bat. No joke! This really happened.

Grateful I made it safely past the wicked witch of the west ridge, I gathered what composure and confidence I could (because something like that happens and you start to question yourself: Did she and her partner really need 8 feet of trail space to themselves? Should I go back and apologize? How is it that she was so ready to lunge at me with that stick? Hell no! I’m not apologizing. I rang my bell, I announced my presence, we had 8 feet of trail space to share, I moved way to the left, WTF?), and headed to the end where I could go down the backside of Cholla and head home via a fun single track called Coyote Run, or Trail (whatever).

Clearly shaken up, I faltered over a couple sandbags going down the steep grade that I had no problem with yesterday. The image of that wiry old woman swinging her stick and yelling at me lingered in my head. “What if she crammed it between my spokes for heaven’s sake?!” I made it down the grade, around the corner, and back on the main road heading to Coyote.

Once on Coyote, I got my groove back (again using my bell as I neared corners and small ridges). As I rode through the trees and came out to an open space, I saw the trail’s namesake ahead just left of my path. He saw me, ran off as I got closer (strangely, I wasn’t afraid to keep going when I saw him), then he stopped in front of a group of trees about 30 yards away. I watched him watch me go by.

At first I thought he was a fox because he seemed small and much better groomed than the last coyote I remembered seeing, and this reminded me of a dream I had ten years ago in which I was blow-drying my hair in the upstairs bathroom of my parents’ house while a fox watched me from the outer edges of the house. He just paced back and forth and watched me. I wasn’t afraid in the dream either, and now I wondered if this possible fox sighting was finally revealing to me the still-puzzling meaning of that dream. But, it was definitely a coyote today, so my dream remains a mystery.

Next, I prepared for yet another attempt up a super steep, single track, short climb that I re-did five times two weeks ago with no success. I had it in mind that it just wasn’t possible for me, but yesterday, Meghan and I watched a guy make it look easy, and he told us we could do it.

So this time, with new found nope, I came around the corner, shifted up (or down, whichever one makes it easier to pedal), and charged up the trail only to put my foot down a couple feet further than I’d made it previously.

“Errrgghh!” I turned around and went back down.

I waited for a couple guys to go ahead of me, then I started again, in a new gear this time. Suddenly, I found myself past the part I always crash on, then up to the part I usually see other people crash on, then over that part, and then I was at the top. Holy shit! I did it! Yes!! This is best feeling ever!

I sailed down the front side and exited onto the main trail heading back to my car, the whole time trying to suppress my smile to prevent bugs from flying into my mouth.

When I got to the paved road leading out of the park, I passed a guy who then caught back up to me and asked, “Did you make it up the backside of Coyote?”

“Yeah! It was my first time, finally! I’m so excited! How did you know to ask that?”

“I passed you waiting to go up.”

“Oh! Nice!”

“Congratulations!” he said.

“Thanks!” I replied, beaming even more because how much sweeter it is to share a victory with someone, even a stranger. “Yes!”