and Death in LA

So today I went to the funeral for one of my dearest friend's mother.  Miss Mille.

Sigh, followed by a deep breath.

The ceremony itself was lovely.  The woman it was held for was engaging and beautiful.  Her friends and family shares stories of a vibrant, dynamic trail blazer who studied law and worked on the aerospace industry in the 60's and 70's.  A woman who loved her children and her children's friends.  A woman who became so close to her best friend Luana that they became family.  She called Luana her "chosen sister".  A woman with a hot rod running around town and soaking up Southern California life with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.

Of course, you cannot help but have thoughts during a funeral.  Thoughts of what was the last funeral you attended, and when was it?  Who was it?  Has it been a long time - or far too recent?  The dreaded unavoidable thought.....who will be the next person you lose?  How old is your mother?  Your father?  You look at your friends at the front of the room and think how are they managing to make it through, and what will it feel like when you are in that chair again.

One of her teenage grandsons stood up to say a few words.  He shared how he remembers playing basketball at Grandma's house, and how she would clap and say "Bravo!!!" every time he made a shot.  He broke down at the enormity of knowing that he would never hear that bravo, that beloved voice again.  If only he could call an encore.  And in that moment of humanity, that shared instinctual connection we have, most of the room broke into tears as this tall, handsome, young man fell apart at the finality of it all.

The preacher went on towards the end about how Jesus was giving Miss Millie a tour of her mansion in heaven right now....as she had earned her way into heaven by being so loving in life.  He was quite compelling and descriptive, which I admire.  Those of you that know me will not be surprised that my thoughts went off course during his lovely description of Miss Millie being ushered through the pearly gates.  Perhaps the mansion in heaven was her 89 years here on earth.  Maybe this is our nirvana.  We need to see the angels amongst us while gravity still has effects on our souls....our kids....our families....our friends....our chosen sisters and brothers....our strangers we meet.

It is hard for me to believe that there is a Quality Control Inspector type of God, monitoring whether or not we loved enough or gave enough or wore the right headwear or undergarments to qualify to get into a post mortem heaven.  I just cannot wrap my mind around an invisible man in the sky that is checking attendance records for church.  I imagine a God that is more of an embrace with open arms than standing with a clipboard and performance report.  (That probably just earned me a demerit on my permanent record.)

Then as I often do, my thoughts reengaged with what the pastor was sharing.  In a wonderful surprise, he ended his eulogy with an impromptu rendition of Joe Cocker's "You are So Beautiful" which I found refreshing and random all at the same time.  I looked around the room and felt that we truly are all beautiful in our own ways, especially to the ones that love us.

Miss Millie had an open casket.  At the end of the service, we all had the opportunity to pay our last respects.  I went up and looked at her peaceful face, and I told her that she had inspired me today.  That she had reignited my passion to get out there and live.  And I told her that I hoped I make it to 89, and that I will fill my life up as much as I am able to in my years, and in my way.

At the gravesite I felt too tall, too blonde, too shiny.  I quietly retreated under the shade of a tree, and felt like I had to be alone, even away from my friends for a few moments. I turned to see a woman kneeling down at a gravesite about 100 feet away, planting flowers at a grave, and my focus shifted away from hearing the now-faint preacher's voice to seeing this bereaved woman, obsessing over the placement of each plant, each flower, arranging and rearranging.  It was as if she was trying to fill the hole in her heart and her soul with the plants.  She had enough plants for twenty graves, and yet they were all for that special one.  In that moment, she reminded me of a beaver building a dam in a creek that will not stop flowing.  She needed to find enough logs to build the dam to stop her tears and her heartbreak.

Miss Millie had everything planned for her special day.  From her casket to her final resting place to the food that would be served at her repast, it was preordained.  It certainly made it easier for my friend and her brother.  I have several things planned to make it easier for those I leave behind as well, although my plans are not so practical.  I have compiled a list of songs that I want to have played at my wake, and at my funeral, and at the party after my funeral.  There is a lot of Pink Floyd, New Order, and Burt Bacharach.  I love the idea of kicking off the wake with Kenny Loggins' "I'm Alright".  When I thought I wanted to be buried, I wanted "Under Pressure" to be played as each person threw a handful of dirt on my coffin.  Now that I want to be cremated, I think "Dust in the Wind" as I am scattered over the ocean may be good, if not a little too obvious. Maybe "Another One Bites the Dust" would work?

I want everyone there to wear something pink.  And I would like a tray of pink rosebuds available for anyone who does not get the memo to wear pink to have something to put on.

My dream is that everyone who attends would have a chance to share a time that we laughed together.  One of the my greatest goals in life is to make people laugh, or at least smile, especially if it seems like it is the last thing on earth they should be doing in that moment.  If I have ever made you laugh, either with me or at me, I would love for you to share it with whomever I leave behind.

Miss Millie truly did inspire me today with her life, even though I was there because of her death.  She almost made it to 90 - would have turned 90 in January.  Eighty nine years is a pretty good life, especially when you fill it with family and cooking and loving and travel and adventure.  Thank you for spending time with me today, Miss Millie, and thank you for having me at your party.

Prêt à écrire et prêt pour un nouvel amour ....

Après un an d' ahurissant anxiété, la déception, le stress, et le chaos .... je me sens un peu comme la femme que j'ai appris à connaître et à aimer toutes ces années d' existence cognitive. ( Hallelujah ) Ce mariage était une brève diversion de la joie, de l'aventure, et l'amour que je crée dans ma vie ici, à Santa Monica, et je suis heureux de se réveiller seul avec un sourire plutôt que de se réveiller avec quelqu'un qui ne m'aime pas comme je suis .

Cela étant dit, beaucoup de gens m'ont demandé si je savais que les choses n'étaient pas tout à fait raison, et même si je n'ai pas relier les points à l'époque, que je regarde en arrière je vois que l'un des premiers signes que quelque chose n'allait pas avec mon cœur et l'âme, c'est là que j'ai réalisé que je ne voulais pas écrire sur mon amour ou ma relation ou mon mariage. Je suis entré dans une grotte et je n'ai pas envie de partager - et ce n'est pas la personne que je suis. Et les rares fois où j'ai essayé d'écrire, je n'étais pas moi-même directement et naturel. Franchement, pour tous ceux qui ont lu le post que j'ai fait sur ​​la performance de violon - ce n'était pas la vraie fin . J'étais coincé dans un niveau surréaliste enfer Dante-esque où même une simple soirée avec mon dessus de la moyenne dans les deux regards et intelligence élève de cinquième a été un désastre tumultueux à cause de mon mari.

Alors, imaginez ce que je ressens maintenant que le désir d'écrire et de partager ( même si seulement une poignée de personnes peut le voir! ) Est de retour . Je me suis réveillé ce matin et dire aujourd'hui, c'est le jour .

Donc - ma légende de titre est toujours bon - je suis une nana heureux à Santa Monica , en Californie ..... et quand j'ai le temps , je vais partager des histoires , des expériences , des pensées et des pensées décousues avec tous ceux qui peuvent tiens à les lire .

Ayez un jour glorieux !

(Est dantesque même un mot en français? Ou en anglais d'ailleurs? lol)

Back in the Saddle and Back on the Market....(BITS and BOM?)

After a year of mind boggling anxiety, disappointment, stress, and chaos....I am feeling a bit like the self I have grown to know and love all these years of cognitive existence.  (Hallelujah)  This marriage was a brief diversion away from the joy, adventure, and love that I create in my life here in Santa Monica, and I am happier waking up alone with a smile than with someone that wanted to change me.

That being said, many people have asked me when I knew things were not quite right, and although I did not connect the dots at the time, as I look back I can see that one of the very first signs that something was amiss in my heart and soul is when I realized I did not want to write about my love, or my relationship, or marriage.  I recoiled into a cave and did not want to share - which is SO unlike me.  And the few times that I did try to write, I was not being my natural direct self.  Frankly, for anyone who read the post I made about the violin performance - that was not the true ending.  I was stuck in a surreal Dante-esque level of hell where even a simple evening event with my above average in both looks and intelligence fifth grader was a tumultous disaster.

So imagine how excited I have been to feel the urge to write and share (even if only a handful of people may see it!) again.  I woke up this morning, and said today is the day.

So - my title caption is correct again - I am a happy chick in Santa Monica, California.....and whenever I have the time I will share anecdotes, experiences, rambling thoughts, and musings with whomever may stumble across them.

Have a glorious day!!!  

Mariage, l'amour, l'espoir, et la bulle sursauts

Plus tôt cette semaine, j'étais assis dans un récital de violon de mon fils en regardant autour de la salle à tous les autres parents. Eh bien pas vraiment tous les autres parents ..... Je cherchais surtout pour les couples. Quelles sont leurs vies parfait? Quand ils se préparaient pour le concert, ils sourient et rient avec une affection facile à vivre qui naturellement entre eux? Est-ce qu'ils soutiennent les uns avec les autres sur si ils étaient en retard, où ils s'asseyaient, et quels sont les vêtements de leur enfant porte? Étaient-ils vraiment ici ensemble dans l'amour ..... ..... dans "like" .... les uns avec les autres? Ou ont-ils mis sur un spectacle de solidarité maintenant qu'ils étaient en public, après la tension, la dissidence, et se chamaillent en privé?

Bien sûr, je ne saurai jamais. Aucun de nous ne sait jamais vraiment ce qui se passe entre deux personnes si déversements leur suspicion, la critique et l'antagonisme plus .... les limites de la vie privée, dans le monde public. Quand je vois que cela se produise, il apporte la tristesse de mon cœur, même s'ils sont étrangers.

Je veux atteindre et interférer ..... de rappeler les deux personnes que ce qu'ils se disputent au sujet est extrêmement important pour deux d'entre eux de différentes manières pour le moment, mais dans le grand schéma de la vie - il est inutile. Ils ont besoin de s'arrêter, prendre du recul et se permettre de se remettre ensemble naturellement plutôt que de forcer un faux sentiment de solidarité, de partenariat - diminue avec méfiance et inquiétude.

Je suis particulièrement intrigué par les arguments au sujet de quelque chose qui «presque» est arrivé. Par exemple, nous avons été "presque" en retard. Vraiment? Sauf si la phrase est quelque chose comme "puis elle a presque eu des relations sexuelles avec l'homme nu dans le lit" ce devrait être un moment de célébration joyeuse, une mini-victoire dans la course contre la montre pour vous et votre famille. High fives tout autour!

Je me suis retrouvé à essayer de regarder dans leurs yeux. Pour une raison que je me sens comme si je pouvais voir la vérité si je pouvais voir dans leurs yeux. Est-ce le look décontracté de quelqu'un qui sait qu'ils sont aimés, qui sait qu'ils sont sûrs, qui sait que tout ce qu'ils ont à faire est de donner un coup d'œil rapide ou demi-sourire et leur partenaire serait instantanément sourire sciemment. Le secret, le langage muet de deux personnes liées les unes aux autres grâce à leur amour et l'acceptation de l'autre.

Combien de fois les amoureux éclater les bulles de leur partenaire avec des mots tranchants, les yeux coupe, sarcastique tenu des propos? Combien de fois ils se concentrent-ils sur ce qui s'est passé mal plutôt que ce qui se passait à droite? Combien de fois ne nous laissons bonheur glisser entre les doigts comme du sable? Il semble que l'amour est une entité tangible forte au début d'une relation. Nous pouvons tenir dans nos mains, tenez-le à notre cœur, dire tout le monde "Regardez! Regardez ce que j'ai trouvé! Regarde ce que j'ai créé!" Ensuite, il semble être plus douce, plus déformée. Faute de soins et d'attention, il semble que cela peut devenir une chose globulaire, un tube coulissant de goo que vous pouvez acheter dans un magasin de souvenir pour vos enfants pour les divertir pendant des heures ..... en essayant de s'accrocher à quelque chose ce qui ne peut avoir lieu. Pas si amusant quand nous sommes plus âgés.

J'ai réalisé que je n'étais même pas vraiment entendre la musique, que je me suis perdu dans mes pensées et observations du langage corporel de tous les couples autour de moi .... et j'ai dû me rappeler à ce moment, comme une mère appelée backdoor pour les enfants rentrent à la maison et de manger le dîner. J'ai dû me dire d'être dans mon propre temps, l'écoute de mon fils et ses camarades jouer "Guillaume Tell" que les enfants avaient pratiqué pendant des mois. Pour regarder la tête nerveux de mon enfant, mon beau fils, qui a été perdu dans son propre moment.

Mon fils a beau s'inclinant ....

Marriage, love, hopes and bubble bursters

Earlier this week, I was sitting in my son's violin recital looking around the room at all the other parents.  Well not really all the other parents.....I was mainly looking at the couples.  What are their lives like?  When they were getting ready for the concert, did they smile and laugh with an easy going affection that naturally made them a team?  Did they argue with each other over whether they were late, where they were going to sit, and what their child was wearing?  Were they really here together.....in love.....in "like" even....with each other?  Or were they putting on a show of togetherness now that they were in public, after tension, dissent, and bickering in private?

Of course, I will never know.  None of us really ever know what goes on between two people unless their distrust, criticism, and antagonism spills over....over the boundaries of private life, out to the public world.  When I see that happen, it brings sadness to my heart, even if they are strangers.

I find myself longing to reach out and interfere.....to remind them both that what they are arguing about is amazingly important to both of them in different ways at the moment, however in the grand scheme of life - it is meaningless.  That they should stop, take a step back, and allow themselves to come back together naturally rather than forcing a false perception of togetherness, of partnership that is belied with distrust and anxiety.

I am especially baffled by arguments about something that "almost" happened.  As in we were almost late.  Really?  Unless the sentence goes something like "and then she almost had sex with the naked man in her bed" this should be a moment of joyous celebration, a mini-victory in the race against time by you and your team family.  High fives all around!

I found myself trying to look into their eyes.  For some reason I feel like I could tell if I could see in there eyes.  Is there the relaxed look of someone who knows they are loved, that knows they are safe, that knows that all they would have to do is give a quick glance or a half smile and their partner would instantly smile back with a knowing look.  The secret, unspoken language of two people bound to each other through their love and acceptance of each other.

How often do lovers burst the bubbles of their partner with sharp words, cutting looks, a sarcastic tone?  How often is the focus on what went wrong rather than what went right?  How often do we let happiness slip through our fingers like sand?  It seems like love is a solid, tangible entity at the beginning of a relationship.  We can hold it in our hands, press it to our chest, say to everyone "Look at this!  Look at what I have found!  Look what I am creating!!"  The it seems to get softer, more distorted.  Without the proper care and attention, it seems that it can become a globulous thing, a slippery tube of goo that you can purchase at a souvenir shop for your kids to entertain them for hours.....trying to hold on to something that is slipping away.  Not so entertaining when we are grown up.

I realized that I was not even really hearing the music as I had become lost in thought and observations of the body language of all the couples around me....and I had to call myself back to the moment, much like a mother calls out the backdoor for the kids to come home and have dinner.  I had to tell myself to be in my own moment, to listen to the slightly too slow rendition of "William Tell" that the children had practiced for months.  To look at the nervous head of my own child, my beautiful son, who was lost in his own moment at the time.

He has nice bowing....

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