i spy with my little... nose...

you ever get a whiff of something and it sends you somewhere else completely? often, i smell rome in the air. but, perhaps that's just the combination of exhaust and cigarettes on a warm day. today i got a really good one, though. while i was searching for a flip flop in the bowels of my closet. on hands and knees, i smelled heart's bend.

heart's bend was a truly magical place. the first summer camp i went to, '91 and '92. six weeks each glorious summer. no parents. no rules, really. tucked into the back roads of newfane, vermont... a stone's throw from my grammy lou's house over on hill road... you know, just before you reach the old round school house. people in vermont talk that way for real, y'all... old trees as mile markers and old so and so's place as play boundaries. magic.

i'm not sure what, exactly, gave me that swirl of heart's bend, but it triggered so much imagery. my blonde bowl cut (modeled after chyna phillips. you know, from wilson phillips. duh), crabapple trees, a sweat lodge, the well we sourced all of our water from (hence the one shower per week rule... awesome at ages 8 and 9), the tiny pond we took baths in with dr. bronner's castille soap (for those weeks when one shower simply wouldn't do) and our outdoor amphitheatre in the woods. man, shit was amazing there.

it was the first place that i was introduced to music beyond the records of my parents... we would lay in the fields near the leantos for hours... wishing on stars and counting firelies, listening to the soupdragons, the red hot chili peppers, the beastie boys and weird al yankovic... i know.

a few years ago, i reconnected with the camp director. she sold the land not long after my final summer there. we reminisced about the magic. it was a place for everyone. truly. we had representatives from almost every continent. people spoke to each other in two different languages at a time. who knows if we ever actually understood each other, per se... but we communicated. you know?

we ate family style - eating what we grew in our garden. we made epic horror films with the college student counselors. we had camp color wars and peace talks. talent shows. overnight camping trips. joni mitchell sing-a-longs. we fed our farm animals and milked cows. composted. we went cliff jumping at the swim hole called indian love call. endless memories.

but, what i am forever grateful for... for the gift my dad and his family tradition of summer camping gave me... storytelling. every night, every day... we told stories. sometimes one person at a time, other times in groups... contributing as a community. magic. magic. magic. instilling a quality of imagination-promotion that was exactly what i needed as an 8 and 9 year old.

if you have time, read this from vermont woman newspaper. the article, about our camp director, nina meyerhof, speaks to the nature of what heart's bend was. pretty beautiful.

newfane road sign from here. that group photo is from heart's bend... but before my time. i found it here.

try new foods...

that's something we say in our family. a lot. try new foods. when i was a kid it was a literal statement. usually, i only wanted to eat bread, pizza, pizza bread, noodles, pancakes or generally anything that could be traced back to a grain... mmmmm. so, whenever something foreign came across my plate (read: fruits, vegetables, vegetables and vegetables) my dear old dad would say bean bean, tryyyyyyy new foods. in that sing-songy, look at me from the corner of his eye, mischievous smile on face kind of way that only my dad can master. inevitably, i would. generally it was ok, except for that one time with the cooked carrots. but, i try not to think about that too much. bad.

later in life, try new foods became metaphorical. for new experiences, adventures and challenges. it was our guest-family way of encouraging one another under the radar. it's our tagline now. sometimes tony guest will leave me a voicemail that says only, hi doodle, try new foods.


all of this has become so much more relevant lately. every day i have to try new foods. and every day i think about this little blog that i am continually ignoring. i hate ignoring this here bloggy-poo. if you've read more than one post, you've maybe noticed a few things. 1) big red is a major player in my life. (and it should be said... tony guest is infinitely as important... but in a more subtle manner). 2) this family of mine holds hell of importance all 'round. 3) i am this way because of these crazy ass people... and i am super into discovering the little details that i notice in my life that i can trace right back to big red or that tony man.

so... here we go again friends. change does a body (and a blog?) good. mother/father's daughter. we can find about 18 trillion blogs about being a new parent, being the best mommy or coolest daddy... but here i am doing what i know how to do, but also what i don't. writing about what i know how to write, but also what i don't...  most days i'm figuring out new ways to make it all make sense. being a daughter. knowing only what has happened so far... in close to thirty years. anticipating the next thirty.

so try a new food, won't you? mother/father's daughter... that's me. and here's who made me:

i know, right!? this is the late 70's in brookline, vermont. when my mom met my dad's mom for the first time... you can't really tell, but big red's wearing hot pants! what what. trust.

i love you.

home again, home again...

you know... as i near thirty (which i am beyond excited about), i have to stop and give thanks on a more-than-regular basis. you see, as the changes have been constant and [seemingly] endless, i made this deal with myself... acknowledge everything you are grateful for. everything. a job, an apartment, the most kick-ass family on earth, clean panties, that cat... you see what i'm getting at. and since we all know that i have the teensiet tendency towards the dramatic side of life, it's hella easy for me to forget about being grateful when shit's flyin' off the fan. ya dig?

today, i reflected on, yet another, trip to la for work. our entire company (which is based in new york), was in la for a national forum. pretty interesting to get a glimpse at the people who have the same job as me, but in other locations. we are a motley crew, i tell you. and even though i don't always remember (especially in the fancy corporate setting), it's ok to be me. and i'm grateful that i'm still remembering/learning that about myself. for, as independent as i claim to be... it's easy to get run over by the ideas of right, appropriate and professional. i can be those things whilst i maintain my own independent integrity.

you better believe i wore the one piece jumpsuit, beehive-style top-knot and helvetica necklace to cocktail hour. me. and not to get a rouse or reaction... simply to feel in my own skin in a somewhat anxiety-producing environment.

also, i went to long beach for one night-night. big red was making matador hats. obvi.

that first photo... hollywood high (sheik pride)... with the dtla backdrop. it was the view from my room at the roosevelt hotel. did i mention that big red's mama, granny poopsie, or maybe she should be grande dame red, is a hollywood high alum. obvi. now it's yoga all weekend. see ya.


ps. today would have been grandpa jim's 94th birthday. and he was in my dream last night. yes, please. and thank you.

aaaand, that's a wrap...

first there was this post, followed by this one. remember? well, let me fill you in on what's been happening...

-there was the first guy. the one who seemed great, at first. responsive, attentive, willing. and then. shut down mode got turned on. maybe we should slow down, he said. sure, i said... under the impression that he would set the new pace. wrong. complete hault, and then... where have you been? he asks. also, he smoked at least two blunts per day. blunts y'all. i thought i was the one from long beach.

-the unemployed one. it's seasonal, he said. well, season yourself right outta here please.

-the amazing one. he was funny, made great conversation, interested in art (and dance!!!!!), handsome, divorced, had a great job. brilliant. two insane dates later, i'm in a complicated situation. i'm in love with someone but we want to see multiple people, he says. avoiding a complete meltdown, i say no thanks.

but friday night was the worst date ever. i mean it. worst. date. ever. (i realize i'm going to throw out a lot of information and not a lot of context, but hey, i'm the boss around here (i'm feeling awfully feisty today)). here are some of my favorite things he said:

upon arriving: -you gonna get yourself a drink or just watch me drink mine? (he may have chuckled right after he said that, but as i turned toward the bar and considered leaving already, i was having some major internal dialogue, so i could be mistaken)

-i wish you'd brought me to a bar i'd never been to before.

-your dad fought in the vietnam war?! your parents must be soooo old.

-why the hell would i ever want to live in the city? only self indulgent fools who are still trying to live like they're in their 20's and party all the time live in san francisco. (i live in san francisco... he lives in alameda. and he's 30)

on skydiving: it was ok. not the most exciting thing i've ever done. what is the most exciting thing you've ever done? you ever gone 100 miles per hour on a [some dumb ass motorcycle]? hmmm. nope.

-i'm a caterpillar mechanic. wow, i have no idea what that means, but it sounds interesting. i dig up the earth. oh, mmm hmmmm. how'd you get into that? well i didn't want to work with wood.

-what do you do? well, i'm a dancer and choreographer. and i teach various movement modalities based on somatic systems to help people discover pain free ranges of motion. that's weird.

let's not even get started on the conversation we tried to have about monsanto. i left 45 minutes after i arrived.

ok, cupid. is. done. i'd rather sit at the bar at starbelly, by myself, read the paper and eat a burger.

i found it here. you buy one for me, and i'll buy one for you, ok? and the piccy here. chin up, cheer up.

we can do it...

forgive. i'm about to get all preachy up on yo' asses...

i've been watching mad men for the last few days. i gave the first few episodes a shot about six months ago, but i couldn't handle the blatant misogyny. could not handle it. until, i read an article regarding the show's writers. i'm making the numbers up, parce que i can't remember the exact details, but it goes something like this. seven out of the nine staff writers for the show are women. that shit made me think.

women. writing about other women's experiences in corporate 1960's new york. exploiting the gross misconduct of men as it relates to gender roles/stereotypes, racial inequality, homophobia and political confusion. so, i asked big red to watch it. she loves it. it is reminiscent of her childhood. big red grew up in various suburbs of los angeles, so the story lines seem a bit over-dramatized at times to her, but there is so much truth.

in an episode regarding the maidenform brassiere, a character states women wear bras for men, not for themselves. with utter conviction. and that's just a benign example. in a conversation about the upcoming kennedy-nixon election, the boss' wife says i'm not sure who we're voting for. can you imagine?!

the hard part for me... this was only forty years ago. not even close to a full lifetime. in the grand scheme of things, forty years is nothing. yet, here we are, looking back on it as if it were the olden days. but there are people, alive, who lived in that madison avenue world of 1962. and, you know, they still relate to a male-dominated sensibility.

of course, we've come a long way. thank goddess we have. so, i feel ill when i witness behavior in young women that can only be described as deplorable. one young woman calling another a bitch. allowing a young man to refer to her as my bitch. we must first demand respect from ourselves and from other women. creating the behavioral patterns that we wish all to emulate. no, this shit ain't easy. it takes time. but, in forty years, we've taken our bras off, redesigned them and put them back on with efficiency, comfort and most importantly with ourselves in mind.

we can do it.

let's discuss the impact of this photo and how it relates to a woman's image another day... for now, we'll use it to rally.

btdubs, this article, by ashley judd, prompted my early morning dose of girl power. she's got some interesting thoughts on a misogyny-driven media culture and its effects on women. she could totally be a sarah lawrence girl. here's a sneak peak at my favorite section... in response to putting on weight:

When I have gained weight, going from my usual size two/four to a six/eight after a lazy six months of not exercising, and that weight gain shows in my face and arms, I am a “cow” and a “pig” and I “better watch out” because my husband “is looking for his second wife.” (Did you catch how this one engenders competition and fear between women? How it also suggests that my husband values me based only on my physical appearance? Classic sexism. We won’t even address how extraordinary it is that a size eight would be heckled as “fat.”)

maidenform from here, kick-ass women from here and the riveter from here. support your fellow woman-kind today (and every day) would you? create patterns for yourself that you want to be translated into the way you are treated. the golden rule is a gem.

move ya' body...

oh heyyyyy. me and this guy:

are celebrating a year of friendship. yes, xavier stallone prince kitty that cat and i have been knowing each other for a whole year now. but, that's not what this post is really about, but i figured i had to stop making big red the subject of every post... you might begin to get the impression that i have no friends and no life. so, posting about my cat... so much better, right? oh, jesus.

generally, we look like this:

and these peeps are our neighbors:

the real point of this story is business related. that idea of change is still so prominent in my life. and, as it turns out, change promotes change. changes to the changes. ya dig? and the worst one? i have never had to sit in that effing office chair for so many hours in one day. gross. my back hurts like crazy town. so, i'm moving! moving my body that is. as much as possible.

in my training last week in la, i moved for two days. almost consistently. i felt the best. ever. swinging my head around. glorious.

seriously y'all. it works. got a loved one with low back issues? move. in a pain-free range of motion. as much as possible. it's magical unicorn medicine. and abundantly obvious.

i know, with no big red stories... there ain't much happening. there are plenty, of course. but, i'll keep 'em for another day.

found these ladies and their animals here and here. oh, and would you go ahead and tell yourself that you're doing a great job at least five more times today? because, you are. we are. we are doing great. great things. i love you.

tv dialogue...

oooooooohhhhh, i'm with big red right now. here's the best part about my new job... they have sent me to la for a new training, but asked me to stay at home to save money. i mean if i have to, i'll stay with big red... what what?! it's almost like being on vacation!

so, here's what's happening right now... and you need to know:

big red is in our (my old, now her office/yoga/sewing) room ironing. only, if you're big red, you say urnin'... cause that's how the bruinettes say it. long beach, i love you.

every now and then she pauses from the urnin' to file a nail. but, only one-ish at a time... reasonable.

here are the commercials that we watched and she loves so much she buckled over laughing:

one of the happy cows come from california commercials. hysterical.

a target commercial where brightly colored acrobats come out of a hot air balloon... she acted it out!

oh, and then the one where steven spielberg tells us that if we are not directly related to a military service person, someone we know and love is. her response? mmmhhhhmmmmm, i know dat's right....

every now and then she hiccups.

and then files another nail.

y'all she is my hero. if i am half of who she is when i'm 60, i'll be plenty pleased with my life.

oh, and the girl's got on gold hoop earrings (also pronounced urns, shit gets confusing around here).

ok, parting words... did i tell you we (the bruinettes) be havin' our banquet at the mormon church??? pardonnez, moi?! all normal conversations whilst watching ncis... love her. love you.


bye.