Life – Page 6 – Tipsy Typer

To Truly Live (A Hope for a New Year)

Happy New Years, my friends! I hope that you make 2017 one to remember fondly. I hope you walk away from this year with pride in all that you have accomplished. I hope you dare to live bravely, to challenge yourself, to find lessons in your failures as well as your successes. I hope you create an adventure that you will look back on in twenty years with a smile saying ‘I can’t believe I did that.’ I hope you slide into December 31st a little bit weary, a little bit ruffled, and with a contagious smile that just won’t quit. I hope you find joy and kindness, I hope you show the world what you are made of. I hope we all do.

I have always been a lover of New Years Resolutions, excitedly proclaiming my goals to my less-than-enthusiastic friends. I know that some don’t hold an abiding belief in this tradition, following the logic that change can and should be made everyday, not just at the beginning of a new year. And while I see the merits in their argument (I myself have decided on a random Wednesday that I had finally had enough and sought my change right them), I still can’t seem to refuse the hopeful joy I feel when that clock strikes midnight, the ball drops, and we all find ourselves collectively standing in a new time, a new day, a new hopeful beginning. It is like the first chapter in the sequel to a book you know and love. You are well aware of the pitfalls, the plots, the characters; but that does not detract from the magic of a brand new book.

There is a sparkle to a new year, a symbolic fresh start, a way to clean the slate and set tangible timelines to your goals. And while you are still the same person you were yesterday, you can look at your problem with fresh determination, even if it is only a change in your state of mind.

2016 was a year of foundations for me. It was a time for me to embrace the things I love and start tackling the maze that is the writing world. It was a year of change, of asking questions, of looking at myself in terms of my potential as opposed to my prior accomplishments. 2016 was a year of tearing down the walls that I had built, crashing through the limitations that I had set. And 2017 will be about putting on that hard hat and building on what I have started. It will be a time to view my life through a new lens, to begin answering the questions that I posed a year ago. 2017 will be a year of living and loving bravely, of baring my soul without apology. This year I resolve to take the next steps off the beaten path I have always so willingly followed. This year will be about potential.

There will be many failures; I am nothing if not deeply and profoundly human in everything that I do. I fail with the best of intentions. But this year I hope that I will not let those failures determine my path. I will struggle, and I will continue to question. I will feel discouraged and sad and wonder what the hell I am doing with my life. But my friends- that is to always to be expected. That is what it means to live a genuine life and be true to who you are. It is not an easy road, to follow your heart and your dreams. It is an unpaved adventure when you deviate from what is expected.

I have seen clearly what my life will be like if I don’t step outside of my box. I will continue to wake up at 5:30 in the morning and blearily hop in the shower to wake up. I will depend on my coffee as I drive to the same building I have worked in since I was 18 years old. I will be happy there; I have been happy there. I will bond with these people, occasionally go to happy hour with friends. I will plan vacations once a year to someplace new, saving every last penny. I will maybe have a few kids (to entertain the dog and cat). I will live a happy, ordinary life.

But when I come to those pearly gates, I will know that I did not live my life. I lived the life that was expected of me. It will be great, it will be grand; and it will be the epitome of everything I am not. I am organized chaos. I am a eternal optimist. But most of all, I am a girl full of dreams and stories that keep my head floating in the clouds. My closet is full of blazers and high heels, and yet I am happiest in my worn tennis shoes and literary t-shirts. I take pride in what I have accomplished, and yet I know in my heart that I am not living up to my potential.

We all know the dream, many of us carry it in our hearts and guard it zealously. Oh, how happy I would be to make my living with a pen in my hand and a story in my heart. And yet, I have come to a realization this past year: the outcome of my writing does not matter. If I never catch the attention of a publisher, if I never see my name on a best-seller list; that doesn’t mean that I failed. The true test is in the journey. If I keep writing, if I keep chasing that dream with wild abandon, if I still daydream about that one story I can’t get out of my head when I should really be reading the latest legal decision on that one case everyone is talking about; then I am winning, I am living my most genuine life.

This year I want to explore my boundaries. I want to re-discover what I really love and what I truly want. I want to do it for myself, not to check a box off of an ever-growing to-do list. This year I am going to be brave and start looking at the bigger picture. While I love my job, I know that I am settling by doing what I do. I am not challenged like I hope, I’ve hit the top rung of my current ladder and I am not satisfied with my view. I am capable of more than what my current task-set allows. And while I don’t think I will be plunging head-first into any new careers this year, I will start the journey to figure out what really brings me joy. I always knew that I wanted to be a writer, but I also envisioned a big glittery question mark that begged the question of ‘what else’? As I ramble down my literary road, what else out there will leave me fulfilled? I want to find out, I want to see what I can accomplish if I set my mind to it, I want to rediscover the passions that I fell in love with once upon a time. If nothing else, I will learn something new about myself and perhaps find some fresh fodder for my literary endeavors. I am forever learning, observing and soaking it all in.

These are my hopes for 2017, the dreams and adventures that I wish to look back on fondly next December as we prepare to ring in yet another year of change. While I thought about writing out my well laid plans on here with all of their lovely little bullet points and step by step directions, I think my purposes are best served with the intentions, the heart of what I am hoping to accomplish. Each month will bring with it a new challenge that I will set out to accomplish; and each task will be met in its own time.

2017 will be a year of self discovery; of learning to slow down and listen to myself, to follow my interests and desires and see where they will lead. It will be a year of taking a step back from the hold that mindless technology has taken on my brain and revitalize myself out in the tangible world. It will be a year of cultivating my mind and body, making small changes now that I will be grateful for in the future.

2017 will be a year of writing, of finishing what I started. It will be a year to explore the possibilities of publishing and facing my fear of public opinion. It will be a year to dedicate to this lovely little space that allows me to bring voice to my thoughts and feel a little bit less alone.

2017 will be about finding myself in small adventures; whether they be as simple as the pages of a book I would normally not read or as grand as a vacation to someplace I never would have envisioned visiting. It will be about finding the good in things that I all too often spot the negatives in.

2017 will be a year of investment; exploring new cultural experiences, finding common ground with people who feel like strangers, searching for a place to fit in a world that wasn’t necessarily created for people quite like me.

In this year, I hope to build, to grow, to look within myself and find a new perspective to color my views with. We have a world of possibilities at our feet and a choice in our hearts; to walk down the path so readily laid before us, or to take that leap and jump into the rambling woods beside us. This year I choose to live my true life; whether I succeed or fail doesn’t matter in the end. It’s going to be one hell of an adventure as we carve this road. I hope to see you amidst the trees, my friends.

A Year of Struggle, a Year of Change (goodbye 2016, I still don’t know what to think of you)

This morning I got to experience my final surprise for 2016: after six years, my little kitten finally learned how to ‘cat’ properly. By that I mean he surprised me as I was reading in bed with my cup of coffee by plopping a dead bird in my lap. I have been told that this is a cat’s way of saying ‘I love you and I don’t want you to starve, so here’s a treat I worked hard for.’ However, from what I could glean, it appeared he was more interested in using me as his table, rather than convincing me to partake of his simple morsel. Oh Oreo, you little rascal, you are full of surprises, and as much as I appreciate the thought, I sincerely hope your New Year’s Resolution does not involve regularly attempting to feed your human. As yummy as your bird looked, I am perfectly content with pizza.

2016 has been one hell of a year, I think we can all agree on that. We have seen the worst of humanity, as well as the best of it. Our hearts have collectively broken, and we have patched them back together with gold. While it has been a rough year for people in general, I can’t help but be appreciative for my personal experiences this year. I did not accomplish everything I set out to do, and yet I have still come so far. For one thing, I started this blog, which has perhaps had the largest influence on me this past year. Through this little haven I have met some amazing people and discovered a self-confidence that I was worried I would never possess in terms of my work.

For me personally, 2016 has been a year of small adventures and self-discovery. I went to Vegas for the very first time and faced my fear of heights by zip lining down Freemont street.

Made my first epic Bloody Mary (which looked better than it tastes):

We walked for MS in the summer, and in the fall we ran through downtown dressed as banana while being chased by gorillas for a smile foundation:

Spent time in nature with some of the strongest, most empowering women that I know:

Visited Halloweentown:

Tried my hand at rock hunting (a new take on geocaching where people paint rocks and hide them around town):

Tried Pokémon go (and discovered a lot of really cool places on some really long walks):

Discovered kiwi berries and chocolate ice cream tacos (do not eat together):

Finally had my name written in a cool way at Starbucks:

Glow in the dark face paint at a 90’s themed birthday party (do not get on your clothes, but if you do- hit me up, I know the trick to get it out):

Saw Neil DeGrasse Tyson speak, as well as Cavaliers Odysseo and The Nutcracker (my first ballet). Did I mention wine tasting for the first time ever? Oh yes, I am turning into a classy little lady (well, now I can pretend to be, at least):

I had my faith in humanity restored by leaving a note with a question on someone’s car at the mall- and actually receiving an answer!:

Got to dance at my brother’s wedding, to the horror of all attending:

This winter we survived an epic ice storm, rode a Christmas train, sat on a questionable Santa’s lap, and I am now the proud owner of the best Christmas Sweater in the history of life:

I started this blog:

And last, but certainly not least, I dressed up my dog…a lot (don’t worry, Link got treats everytime I made him ham it up for the camera):

So you see, the things you choose to find joy in will color your view on the past year you have lived. For 2016 I will embrace the small joys I encountered on my adventure, though there were many moments that could have crushed my spirit and hopes for the year to come. Tonight I choose happiness and hope.

This New Year’s Eve I want to say thank you to all of you, for embarking on this journey with me. I have some exciting things in store for the coming year, and I hope you will join me as we take these winding paths together. I don’t think I could have done this without the support and encouragement that I have found with you all. Not to mention the fantastic ideas many of your own blogs have inspired in me. Your creative work propels me to strive for the high bar you have set, and with that motivation, I am envigorated with the possibilities.

So tonight I will gladly reflect on a year of constant change. My wish for all of us is a happy, prosperous new year. Tomorrow I will step up and focus on those new goals (ever an optimist, I am a big believer in resolutions), but for tonight I think it is best that I appreciate the road we have traveled. We are all exactly where we are meant to be tonight.

May you all have a safe and happy New Year, my friends. I hope that the excitement of the season finds you well and ready for another beautiful day we have awaiting us tomorrow.

She drowned in the moonlight and was strangled by her own bra (a tribute to the princess who taught me how cool it was to be a nerd)

I like to tell people that I was a nerd before nerdisms were cool. I had the glasses before they were ironically chic. I scaled my own mountain of books, I carried the love of fictional realities, a knowledge of Star Wars and astronomy. I adored history, I checked out so many books with each trip to the library I could barely see over the pile as I carried them to my mom’s car. I played with my microscope far more than an other little girl I knew (in fact, I was the only little girl I knew who owned one- stolen from my older brothers and jealously guarded lest they ask for its return. Lucky for me, their interests turned more to the automotive side rather than observable science). I even went so far as to do ‘math puzzles’ for fun (something I still find ironic because I grew into a woman who still cringes at the thought of even the simplest math without a calculator- I still subtly use my fingers to count out a tip at a restaurant). I knew I was a bit of an odd little duck, and yet, I always had a pressing desire to fit in. So I did what every self-conscious young girl does; I hid the pieces of myself I thought others wouldn’t understand. It can be a lonely existence when you closet away your deepest obsessions out of what amounts to simple insecurity as a child. I’ve always been odd, but it took me awkward year upon awkward year to embrace it as I discovered other like-minded indivdiauals who carried their passions like a badge of honor, an invitation to others who shared that love.

Growing up and leaving high school, I met more diverse people than my small town had to offer. Suddenly I found people I could have interesting and different conversations with. One of the first things I found I could bond with my new ‘nerdy’ friends over was none other than the epitome of geek culture: Star Wars. I own every movie (with special features), though it’s been, admittedly, a long time since I have watched some of the originals. My friends carry their storm trooper tattoos on their arms with pride as we all tromp into comicon together. Star Wars was a jumping off point for me, a doorway into a world of acceptance that I deeply craved when I was growing up. Filled with intriguing characters and a rich storyline, it also brought new fodder to my always active imagination. And right there, in the center of it all was a young actress named Carrie Fisher.

It is always a sad day when the heroes of our past prove to be mere mortals. Hearing of her death felt like a punch to the stomach this morning. When she had her heart attack on Friday, I was convinced that she would be okay. After all, she had spent her life being a fighter. Nothing was going to get her down. No, she was far too tough for this life, something so simple would not be the end of such a strong, charismatic woman. And yet, I could not run from the truth for long.

I’ve read some of her books in the past, in fact, I fell in love with the quirky attitude in ‘Wishful Drinking’ only a month ago and couldn’t stop talking about it. I listened to the audiobook and couldn’t get enough of the hilarious delivery and energy that she threw into her work. She was not just an actress; she was a fellow writer, an odd duck, a woman who was unafraid to share her experiences if it would assist someone else from following her troubled road. She spoke of difficult topics with a self-depreciating candor and vital humor that allowed room for more open conversations about topics that were sadly swept under the rug for far too long. She was who she was, a princess of the stars in more ways than one. And she never apologized for that. She owned who she was with a bravery that I am still learning to find within myself.

What hurts with her death is the feeling of camaraderie I felt towards a woman I have never met (well, apart from sneak peeks at a comicon, but that doesn’t count). She was undoubtedly an odd little ducky; and yet, that is exactly what drew me to her. Because I am an odd little duck too, a duckling that spent far too long trying to find her way. She inspired me to embrace who I am with humor and dignity, to smile at the people who don’t understand the type of person I am, without feeling like there is something inherently wrong with me. She taught me to have open conversations about difficult topics with people who have a new perspective to offer me. She taught me to have compassion for others as well as myself. I was, perhaps, more of a fan of her words, rather than her acting (though that was also inspiring); but it was her truth that she shared without apology that genuinely intrigued me. She embraced who she was and reminded me that is okay for me to do the same.

So tonight I send this tribute to a woman who I never knew, but who had an impact on me nonetheless. This is for the princess who showed us all the stars. This is for the woman who proudly proclaimed who she was to the world and never asked for forgiveness. This is for the woman who showed us the true power found in humor and honesty. This is for the actress who helped inspire a cult following; one who helped me find others who carried a freak flag that looked just like mine. This is for the woman who built cultural bridges that we all can cross if we are willing to open outselves to the passion of the experience. This is for the woman who reminds me of the little girl I was, secretly playing with microscopes and staring at the stars.

May you find the peace that you so deserved in life. May you find comfort in knowing that you have made a difference; we all mourn our mutual loss tonight, though for many different reasons. Thank you for the lessons you imparted, for the brave and open way you fought your most personal fight. Thank you for all that you gave the world, it is a better place because of your presence. Thank you for the laughter, for the insight, and most of all, for the courage to be completely true to oneself.

After a crazy Christmas comes PJ day!

Good morning! (good afternoon, good evening and goodnight as well, depending on when you read this). I hope yesterday everyone had a magical time filled with fun, family and friends. I hope the stresses of the season didn’t dampen the glow of excitement that pervaded the air. I will admit, it took me a tad longer than usual to get into the holiday spirit, but now that it has officially come and gone, I don’t know how ready I am to see it go. My poor fiancé got sick last night, so I think we have the perfect excuse to lay around in our pjs drinking excessive amounts of coffee and watching all of those Christmas movies I never quite got around to this year. Not to mention playing with a few new gizmos and gadgets (and reading, oh so much reading).

Now, I am not a particularly materialistic person, but I will openly admit that I love geeking out over unusual items (those BuzzFeed: get through this list without spending $50 kill me every time). I have a deep fascination with the odd, obscure, and downright rare. I find my inspiration in the oddest of places. This year for Christmas my family and I had decided we wanted to do less stuff. We were going to spend more time on events that we could do together and memories that we could make, which we did. Though I must admit, we all fell back into the typical cycle of wanting to give to one another- to see the joy in another’s face when they opened a little gift from us. The benefit to having less of an emphasis on material items this year led to a surprising outcome: the gifts that were all exchanged carried some deep meaning that left many of us dabbing at sparkling eyes wet with happy tears. There was a book that my dad read to us every Christmas growing up that he found recordable version of- which he recorded himself reading, for us to enjoy forever and share with our future children someday. That way no matter how far apart we may be, he can still read us the book on Christmas Eve (I did cry with this one). There were also a few perfect little items that captured the soul with the deep understanding the giver had for the receiver.

You see, material possessions don’t really mean a whole lot in the grand scheme of things. But yesterday I learned the power behind a heartfelt gesture that can take the form of something as simple as a coffee mug. I have always struggled with being completely open about who I really am underneath it all; my insecurities stamp their feet and demand to be noticed any time I try to get the courage to talk about some of the things that I love, things that are so deeply personal that to have them cast aside by someone I care for would wound me far more deeply than I would care to admit. My writing, for example; I am always nervous to discuss it, in fear that others will dismiss this humble little dream of mine, afraid that they will read my words and decide that I am just not particularly good at it. I hate to admit that their opinions do matter to me; it’s not that they could ever convince me to stop writing, it is as much a part of my identity as my nose is an integral part of my face. But they could conceivably convince me that perhaps my words should be for my alone, and that maybe this dream just isn’t right for me to chase. They have the power to give a louder voice to my fears and insecurities, and I don’t know what kind of damaged that emboldened voice could do.

But yesterday I was given a tiny little nudge of support in the form of a little coffee mug. It came from my soon-to-be in-laws who have always shown me unquestioned support in all of my writing endeavors. It had a little writerly quote on it, and meant more to me than I was able to say. This was a physical acknowledgment of their support and acceptance of something that is deeply ingrained in me, it was a nod to the fact that over the years we have become close enough to share these silly little dreams. And it was a reminder that they have my back 100%, no matter how many times I devolve into a babbling incoherent mess everytime they ask me about my current project. It was just a little coffee mug, but it meant so much more than that to me.

This particular picture is just to show the entire quote on the mug, as it wraps around the mug too far for me to get a good picture of the full thing.

Yesterday was a beautiful day for myself and my family (minus the surprise illness of my fiancé, who is luckily already feeling a bit better today). I somehow managed to hit all of the important stops (we were bouncing between houses like a ping pong ball), but inexplicably, this year I didn’t feel that same stress and strain. Perhaps because for once we all started out our day with only the hopes of spending a bit of quality time with one another. We took the time to step back and really see one another, have compassion for the year we have all endured together, and reminded one another of what was really important. We shared mountains of love instead of scaling heaps of unnecessary items. For the first year in ages I have walked away from the day feeling refreshed and revitalized. I can only hope that you, my friends, felt the same love and relaxation from a day that all too often loses its meaning. As we careen towards the fresh start of a new year, I will attempt to hold onto this peace I have found.

For at least one more day, I am going to mosey around my house with my Santa slippers and fuzzy pajamas, drinking hot tea and watching family movies as my normally energetic puppers sleeps on my feet (as it turns out, tearing up all of his new toys and hiding the TWO different bones people slipped to him yesterday has been a rather draining task). Today I will find comfort in- well, the daily comforts I so often push aside in my persuits of other ‘more productive’ things. Sometimes the best thing you can do is take a step back and enjoy the rare gift of a peaceful moment while you have it. The new year is quickly approaching, and with it will come a fresh determination to tackle yet another list of goals, one more mountain to climb. So for today, I will rest and enjoy the journey that has brought me right here.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Beautiful Festivus and general warm fuzzies to you all

My dearest friends, whatever you may be celebrating today, I sincerely hope it is a day of loving family, closest friends, cuddly critters and happy hearts. My wish for you on this lovely December day is one of simple joy and appreciation for the things that are truly important. I hope it is all that you had dreamed, and I sincerely wish that today is a reminder to us all that we are what truly matters. Reach out to someone you may not always see eye to eye with, go for a walk with a relative you normally don’t spend time with, attempt to come closer and understand one another a little better today. Enjoy your evening, I will not keep you long.

And if nothing else goes right today, please know that this someone right here is thinking of you all and is very thankful for your presence and support in my life, though we have never met. You are making a difference to someone, you matter, and you deserve to have an amazing day today. With lots of love from myself (and the fur babies that assist me here at Tipsy), I raise my glass in a salute to you all, and I will eat another cookie in your honor (okay, maybe two- you deserve two).

My Christmas Miracle (a lesson for us all)

Last Christmas Eve started out like any other: I got off work at 5:00 (government employees don’t generally get the luxury of leaving early on holidays, contrary to popular belief) and rushed home to change before my fiancé and I drove up the winding roads to my dad’s house where our annual Christmas party was in full swing. It’s always just family, but it’s special because there are many we only see that one time every year. It was a full house last year, family pouring in, a few new babies and step children swelling our numbers in the previous 12 months.

My cousin’s boyfriend had a new car- and it happened to be my fiancée dream car at the time. A white Subaru wrx (very sporty, for those- like myself- who don’t get the whole car thing). So naturally, three of the boys decided to take a little joy ride down to a nearby house. They were gone a long time. And the rest of us started to get mad; we had fussy babies who needed to get home and into their pajamas for Santa, we had presents to open. We needed them to stop playing and come home.

I didn’t think much of it when my fiancé appeared at the sliding glass door and asked me to step outside. But the moment that I did, I knew something was wrong. “Something happened,” was all he managed to say. “There was an accident. It’s bad.” The world stood still and spun all at the same time. I remember asking him if everyone was okay. I remember that he didn’t answer me. I still feel that jolt in my heart thinking back to the moment he said my cousin’s name, and then stopped. I physically stopped breathing. Please, oh please God, tell me Alex is still alive. Please, oh please God, don’t make me step back into that room and have to look at his scared parents who still have no idea what is going on. It took a while before he was able to finally tell me Alex was hurt. Hurt meant not dead, there was a wave of guilty relief that washed over me. For once, ‘hurt’ was the acceptable alternative.

I ran inside to get my dad, a firefighter- he knows how to handle these situations. We all ran to our cars to go to the scene. On the drive there, I was able to find out from Zach what happened.

My dad lives on the top of a hill, well, a small mountain really. It’s out in the middle of nowhere on a long stretch of winding roads. That night it had been snowing, though not enough to be of any concern. The driver had been showing off his car- he lived out there too and knew those roads like the back of his hand. They were driving up, heading back to the house, when he hit the gas right before a corner. He turned the wheel with the curve of the road, but they were going too fast. The car slid to the edge and hit a little patch of gravel before it fell down the steep drop-off that is less than a foot from the road. There were no guardrails. The car flipped one and a half times as it slid down the embankment. It landed on its passenger side door, held up by three spindly little trees that were growing on that steep decline. To this day I am still not sure how those three tooth-pick sized trees were able to hold firm with the force of the impact caused from a full sized sedan carrying three grown men crashing into them at high speed. If they hadn’t, or if the car had slid another foot forward, it would have rolled all of the way down. There would have been no survivors after a crash like that. But miracles happen, their guardian angels were strong that night. When the car stopped rolling, they didn’t know what was holding them up, though they were aware that they toppled all the way down the side of the cliff. All they knew was that they had to get out before whatever it was gave way.

They had to climb straight up and lifted themselves out to get out through the driver’s side door. Zach and the driver were dazed, but able to get out. My cousin had been sitting in the back seat. He had been knocked unconscious and had to be coaxed and pulled out of the car, though he didn’t want to leave. They climbed up the embankment and made it to the side of the road where they were able to flag down a single car- there was no cell service where they went off the road. Zach went to get help while they waited. That car almost hit another on their way to my dad’s house to drop him off. For the second time that night, a deadly crisis was averted.

I will never forget the moment that we drove to the scene, the headlights from my uncle’s car lighting the road and down the cliff to that car. I will never forget the way they had to convince my cousin to get up off the ground where he was laying when they first got there. I will never forget that crumpled white car propped up against the trees, the marks of the tires in the gravel, people running between headlights as we stared down an embankment at crumpled steel and injured family.

When you live out that far, an ambulance takes a while. So we decided to drive them to the hospital. In hindsight, that was probably not our best idea, but we didn’t know what else to do. In times like that when everything feels so far out of your control, sometimes action is the only thing that will make you feel better. My brother drove, Zach sat in the front seat, and Alex lay across the back seat with his head on my lap. That was the longest car ride of my entire life, trying to keep Alex awake, fighting the panic that would rise when I would have to repeat his name several times before he would respond to me.

I stepped into the emergency room with two injured men, Alex’s arm draped over my shoulder. He threw up the moment we stepped through the doors. When he was whisked back, I went with him, even though the last thing I wanted to do was leave my fiancé. They were both hurt, but Alex was worse and the doctors needed information that I wasn’t sure he would be able to give, as he had been in and out of lucidity for the entire drive in. Zach said he’d be okay, his own parents were on their way, he wouldn’t be alone for long. I sat in the back room as they worked on Alex, the doctors and nurses peppering me with questions, some of which I didn’t know how to answer- as we waited for his parents to arrive.

I found out later that he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, which wound up being bittersweet. Looking at the damage later, if he’d been strapped in where he had been sitting, he might have been just as badly injured- the tree smashed the spot he would have been. But because he wasn’t wearing it, he went flying like a rag doll when the car flipped. The front of his head hit the back of my fiancée. Zach was released from the hospital with some abrasions and a mild concussion. Alex’s was a more severe concussion, and it would take him a few months to get back to his normal self, it was a scary few months as we all kept updated on his status. But they were both okay.

The next morning we woke up, shaken and thankful. Zach was still sore, but we drove over to his brother’s house to be there when our niece and nephews opened their Christmas presents. We got to watch the light grow in their eyes as the pile of wrapping paper created mountains beside them. I got to watch Zach take his oldest nephew to the backyard to try out his new experiment (coke and mentos), I got to watch him laugh and play with them, and for once, I was able to fully appreciate the memories we were making.

As Zach and I were helping the boys build their lego forts (they decided to make us race- I lost), I kept watching him as he teasingly snuck gummy lifesavers from the kids, helping them search for the right pieces for their lego creations, and I realize how unbelievably lucky we were. Everything could have ended that night. We could have been that cautionary holiday tale that feels so distant, even while it pours ice into the soul. One weak little tree, one foot forward- and we could have spent our Christmas in mourning; instead we were watching this amazing man play with his nephews like nothing had happened, smiling through the headache he still had.

Moments like this shake you to your foundation, when you realize how close you were to losing everything. I couldn’t stop thinking how they were sitting in that crumpled car and we had been warm in the house and angry with them for being late. So many things could have gone so very wrong. But I like to believe in fate, in miracles, in a reason for the things that happen to us. I had taken the people in my life for granted, perhaps Zach most of all. We had built our lives together, and in a single moment it could have all come crumbling to the ground.

I will forever be thankful for those three spindly trees. I look for them every time we drive up to my dad’s house, my eyes resting momentarily on the turn that almost changed our lives completely, almost ended the lives of people we love with everything that we have inside.

This was a reminder for me- a reminder of what is truly important, a reminder to be patient and kind with those we love. A reminder that your life can turn upside down in the fraction of a second, with one innocent mistake; because that’s all it had been. So take the time to appreciate the people in your life. Don’t let the stress of the everyday color your time together. Be thankful for every second you have, and thank whatever force you believe in when you are granted the priveledge of one more day with them. Last year I learned something that I thought I already knew; life is precious and is not guaranteed to any of us. It is a fragile gift that should be treated with the reverence it deserves. Be thankful for every moment that you have, and when the sand in that hourglass is spent, look back on that time fondly with the love that it deserves.

Too Much of a Good Thing (remembering who I have become)

Have you ever watched the movie ‘Matilda,’ you know, 90s classic that was a staple for me growing up. Oh how I always wanted to be like her; reading the entire library, able to move things with my mind and bubbling over with adorable charm. Yes, that was the dream- minus the horrors of Ms. Trunchbull. We could all do without that little gem in our lives.

As it turns out, lately I have been a lot more like Bruce Bogtrotter than Matilda. He was the infamous cholocate cake boy (who incidentally grew into a pretty handsome man, only proving my theory that cake is a the most amazing human invention and can fix anything in your life).

Now- what do I mean when I say that I’ve been Bruce Bogtrotter? Well, remember how all he really wanted was some chocolate cake, and he just couldn’t resist so he stole a piece from the grinchy principal? His punishment after that sounded amazing: to eat an entire chocolate cake all on his own. Yes, it was a dream come true- until it wasn’t. As it turns out, too much of a good thing (even with something as glorious as chocolate), can still hurt you. The key has always been balance; something I am continually working on. After Nano ended I decided that I was going to give myself a little break, I reasoned that I had earned it- I hit my crazy big goal in November, and honestly, I was a bit tired. I craved the free time I never had, I desired that freedom the same way Bruce craved that cake. I simply couldn’t resist, though I knew the dangers of falling back into my old ways. So I opted to take time and relax, read my books, ease off of my writing projects and just give myself a bit of a break. Which was wonderful. Until it wasn’t.

All work and no play makes Katie a dull girl, and conversely, all play and no work makes Katie fall asleep far too early and lose her pizzazz. I loved the first week or so, well, actually, I still love it- it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to sit and read my books guilt-free without the constant nagging in the back of my mind on what I should be doing. So I read, and when I got burnt out on my current paperback, I started poking around online. A lot. And, as usual, the holiday season is a busy one for me- with ugly sweater parties, Christmas tree train rides, holiday plays, gingerbread houses, a first attempt at a wine tasting, family frivolity and friendly festivities. But as it turns out, a lot of other things fell by the wayside as I spent more and more time indulging myself. This blog even- it started to fade into a late night afterthought, a tinge of guilt, but no real desire to sit down and work. One of my projects has been languishing, neglected and alone on my laptop. Even my laundry has been a mountain that has flooded over the top of its hamper, continually threatening to topple on the unsuspecting cat who only wants to play with the dangling sleeves of my sweaters.

And you know what happened? It stopped being fun. All of this extra time I had on my hands- it was a waste. I was standing still when I have spent the past year pushing so hard to inch forward, one toe at a time. It felt like I was losing all of the ground I had fought for. To suddenly find yourself languishing, and knowing it was all your own doing- it kind of sucks. It’s like sitting in the bathtub until the bubbles are gone and the water is cold, you’ve overstayed your welcome and the relaxation turns into anxiety. I found myself killing time that was once such a precious commodity to me- by mindlessly scrolling through the interwebs, checking my Facebook way more than I should, and even finding myself so bored at night that I was falling asleep early, kindle still propped on my lap. There was no stimulation, no motivation, no fire burning me up from the inside and sparking life into my soul. I had become dull and faded without my inspiration to guide me. I had become the girl I was once upon a time when I would dream without doing and wonder why my life wasn’t changing.

Much like the chocolate cake; when you eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, it loses its appeal and pretty soon you find yourself craving an apple. You have to indulge yourself occasionally with a piece, but knowing it is a special treat makes it all the sweeter. That’s the balance I have to remember, I need to learn to teeter when I want to totter.

I don’t know who I am when I’m not writing, I lose my focus and start to feel like my very identity is slipping, I feel like a shadow of the myself. I have spent so much time this year working my tail feathers to the bare nubbins. And in spite of the dedication and laser focus it has required- it’s felt amazing knowing that I am doing something for myself, that I am taking steps towards a dream I have always had. So treading water- it doesn’t feel as good anymore. When I know what I am capable of, it hurts to do anything less. I feel like I’m wilting.

And so, here I am, frustrated with complacency and ready to strike back. It’s been fun, but I am sick of my holding pattern. So here we are my friends- Tipsy is back and ready to take a shot (I meant that in the dukes up, fight for myself kind of way- you know- hit me with your best shot; not shot of alcohol way, though technically that probably works too).

It’s time to come back to my new life, the one I fought so hard for. And now I can find comfort in knowing that I don’t think I am capable of slipping back into that girl I had once been- the one so full of unrealized dreams. Because I just tried, and though I did wilt for a time, I find myself blooming again. I can emphatically say: I am not that girl anymore. I am stronger than her, and damn it, I will keep on fighting for what I want. Because it’s the only thing that leaves me fulfilled and satisfied at the end of the day. Cheers, my friends, it feels good to be back. I’ve missed you. And perhaps I’ve missed me a bit too.

When snow day dreams turn into nightmares

So last night I told you about our impromptu snow day (more like an ice day) and how I needed to remember to act like a kid sometimes and just enjoy those moments that I couldn’t control. Last night I was quickly reminded that after dark you have to turn into an adult again, otherwise the world can be a very scary place.

I was just settling in to go to sleep at 11:30 when some strange buzzing sounds and light flashes woke me up before all went dark and silent. We lost power. Not only that, but it seemed a transformer blew- Zach saw a bright flash of turquoise light in the backyard that was so bright, at first he thought we had been hit by lightning (personally, I was wondering if the wizarding world of Harry Potter was finally going to reveal itself to us. Or perhaps they did, but then they did a memory charm and convinced us a transformer blew- eh, possible?). The neighborhood was dark, it was late, so we locked the critters in the room with us and cuddled up to stay warm as we listened to the ice falling outside.

At 2:00am we awoke to a crash in the backyard. In my frazzled state of half-wakefulness I thought I heard someone yelling, but was later told that no, it must have been a part of my dream. I lived in the woods growing up, and I know the sound of falling branches and trees- that definitely fit the bill. As we ran to the back door to get a better look, I was convinced that I would find a tree protruding from the neighbor’s house, or, at the very least, a smashed fence. Lucky for me, my fears were unfounded. The neighbors behind us have a few large trees. Between the weight of the ice, the expanding and contracting from the temperature changes and the force of the wind- the top just couldn’t handle it anymore and it snapped- toppling right into our yard and scraping against our patio awning and the back fence on its way down as it showered ice over our roof and cement patio. We got lucky, it didn’t seem to do any damage (except, perhaps, to the bush it landed on).

So back to bed we went, cuddled up to the cat and the dog (luckily at this point, our power was back on and things were starting to warm up a little bit). We were a tad jumpy, eyes opening wide every time we heard more ice fall. But eventually we lulled ourselves back to sleep.

Crash! The next one was at 4:00am, and at this point, I was beginning to feel like a pro, though, admittedly, it sounded closer to our bedroom than the last one. With the ease of a scene previously well choreographed, we locked the animals in and stepped out to investigate. Same thing happened, just a little farther down, just a little closer to our bedroom. The shape loomed ahead in the dark as we shone our flashlights at it. Once again, we were very fortunate- for the second time it hit in the postage stamp part of the yard that was unused. So back to bed we went, once again jumpy to all sounds of falling ice.

It was quieter after that. At 6:30 the dog couldn’t handle it anymore and had to be taken out potty, but by then the steady crashing of ice had abated- though you could see the war it had waged on our house in the form of ice balls and shards scattered across our patio. The dog stepped carefully before running back inside to the warmth that awaited him.

When it sounded like everything had been calm for a few hours, we went out to explore our little winter wonderland. About five minutes after taking pictures of the ice hanging off of one particular tree, we watched a big piece of it snap off and tumble into the yard. Needless to say, we have retreated back to the safety of the house and have put all critters on lock down until I feel comfortable that they will not get impaled by dropping debris. We still hear the occasional snap and crash as another branch falls into the icy hands of its own fate. One more hit the house, but it was spindly and didn’t do much from what I could tell looking out the window.

Our road is still frozen, but the temperatures are slowly creeping to the upper thirties, so I have hope that we will escape the ice castle today. It will probably take a while because there is still such a thick sheet coating everything. In the meantime, I will live off of coffee, which I keep a bountiful supply of. Though I must admit, I am getting quite sick of the soup that I stocked up on when I had the flu. I will do the laundry I have been ignoring all week. When we can finally cruise off our hill, I think I will enjoy a nice big burger or eat a whole pizza to myself. Just because it’s something different.

Whatever your weather, be safe out there my friends.

Snow Days and Ice Castles

On the west coast, we aren’t very good at the whole ‘snow’ thing. We like it, but if you’ve ever been through a Pacific Northwest winter, you will quickly realize that we are ill-iquipped for the rogue snow storm. A little flurry will send us into a tizzy (which is ironic, because we have them every single year). And a spot of ice? Forget about it, we are boarding up the doors and windows to protect ourselves against The Abominable Snowman and setting our kitchens on fire for warmth. We love winter, but we are not good at winter. We never believe the forecast and we are not prepared. Snow days are the days you eat the last pack of top ramen with stale fruit loops and wonder if this is how it will really end for you.

This week we had our first winter storm. I had been home sick with the flu on Wednesday (because this year I am attracting illnesses like a moth to flame). But Thursday morning I was ready to face ‘the big snow day’ as the news was calling it. Schools had made a preemptive strike this year and closed up their shutters before the first flake fell. Which meant that my commute in was glorious and dry. Partway through the morning, tiny flakes began to fall, and I was shocked to see an announcement that the office would be closing at noon. What? Come again? To be clear- we don’t close. Ever. I think in the past ten years we’ve maybe closed one time, and that was for the type of ice storm that left cars looking like pin balls bouncing around the streets of the city. I was planning on staying late to help my boss. But when 12:30 hit, the snow was coming down in sheets and even the most dedicated were ready to hit the road and crawl their way home. I live up on a big hill in the eastern part of town, a place that notoriously catches the brunt of the storms, and so when my coworkers attempted to coax me out the door, I pulled on my long socks, tucked in my scarf and marched out to my car alongside them. In solidarity, you know.

On the drive home there were a few cars in the ditch, a few spots where my traction light blinked a warning at me, and one occasion when an oncoming truck wobbled his way into my lane- but eventually, I crawled my way home and parked gratefully in my usual spot. The remainder of the afternoon was spent watching movies in a fuzzy robe while trying to get over the last embers of my flu.

Fast forward to this morning: we knew that the world was supposed to freeze overnight, but the news dismissed much of this, saying the roads would start melting at 7, and be freely passable by 10. My first mistake was believing them. You see, while this estimate may have been true in the heart of the city- I lived much farther away- on a side street up a steep hill. The general estimates do not apply to me. I heard my nephews yipping for joy when they got the news that school was cancelled right before I stepped out my front door at 6:30 and clung to the railing- solid ice everywhere. I slid down my driveway to my car and saw the ice castle we were encased in, not to be outdone by the beautiful glisten of the roads. To be more precise- the beautiful glisten of the several inches of ice that blanketed the roads. I pried open my car door and slid inside, and then I sat. How was I going to get out of this without smacking my precious car (a car I still owe a small fortune on) into something much harder and less forgiving than her? No, I could not do that to Ellie (yes, I named my car. I also named all of the potted plants in my office after Wild West characters: Bonnie, Clyde, Calamity Jane, Dinky Dalton and Fifel- I have a thing with naming inanimate objects; and no, that is not strange, that is quirky and charming). So I trudged back inside. And then outside again. And then inside one more time.

Huffing, I set my stuff down and reached out to some co-workers who graciously offered to help cover my work assignment that morning until I was able to skate down my hill. Just 30 minutes, I told myself; I would be in my desk before the docket even started. But thirty minutes later nothing had changed. There were still several inches of ice covering the ground, freezing rain pelting me as the wind whipped my hood off my head and the neighborhood children stared at me wide eyes as they tobogganed down their driveways and slid into the cul-de-sac wondering what on earth I could possibly be doing sliding down to my car and scrambling back up the slippery slope, tote bag filled with my lunch and daily supplies slung precariously over my shoulder. No, perhaps a few more hours and then I could make my great escape to the civilized world.

Well, it is now almost 4:00 and the ice is still holding firm to its love (the road). That is right, I have been the captive princess of my own little ice castle, restlessly roaming from room to room, stepping outside to check the conditions before dejectedly scurrying back up the driveway (a literal uphill battle all on its own) and texting my co-workers my regular update.

We have played real life bumper cars: ice rink edition- when one car slid into my fiance’s, luckily stopping short before hitting my own- and don’t worry, it was a slow slide and the ice encrusting his car blocked any possible damage. We still have not been able to push the offending car away because, alas- no traction.

Now, I am a firm believer that you should not stress yourself over things you cannot change. And today I repeatedly stressed myself over the weather and the fact that I was stuck away from my job. But I was also surrounded by family who got sick of my constant worrying and started trying to get my mind off of it. Eventually, I even got sick of myself and I listened.

I gleefully got to watch my two nephews and my German Shepard playing in the backyard, all scuttling around trying not to knock each other over on the ice- the dog so frantic to avoid toppling the four year old that he scurried and slid right into the retaining wall. And I also had the satisfying moment when the 7 year old did exactly what I told him not to do: running on ice is not a good idea, and if you don’t listen to your aunt you will slip, you will fall, and then you will continue to slide while staring up at the sky in shock. And then said aunt will try not to laugh too obviously as she walks you back up to the front dooor amidst your most profound wailing (for the record, he was fine- when he realized he wasn’t getting a reaction, the wailing quickly stopped and he was begging to come back outside). I may be an evil aunt at times, but I’m not completely heartless.

I got to help the kids hide in my overflowing laundry hamper when the wind and ice were too much to play outside and a game of hide-and-seek was the only way to alleviate the excess energy a snowday provides to small children (and for the record, kids these days are way too easy to find- they will not only hide in the exact same place every time, but they will even ask you for assistance in getting into said location. So hmm- I wonder if you are exactly where I put you ten seconds ago- look, I found you. Oh I’m good). I got to watch a tv show on Netflix. And once I accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to be making it in to the office, I was finally able to enjoy my surprise snow day: something I haven’t had since I was a kid. I will be thankful for my awesome employees who don’t question my work ethic and eventually told me to get over it and be okay with the fact that they had it under control- and stop texting already, you’re making us tense. Getting to work wasn’t worth crashing my car or getting hurt.

Next time, I will buy chains and take the forcast seriously. Or I will camp out at my co-worker’s house because she lives where it is flat and typically de-iced. And I know where her house is, so even if she says no, I can sit in my car until she feels guilty and let’s me inside. It’s a win-win, really.

But for today, I will try to enjoy a small surprise. I will reign over my ice castle (that does not appear to be melting before nightfall), I will settle in, make a few bags of popcorn and force the nephews to watch Frozen with me- because Olaf is cute and I am an adult so they have to listen to me. And then we can follow that up with some Ant-Man or Hulk, like we did last night. We can turn on our Christmas lights and play a fun little game (but please, no more hide-and-seek, the 7 year old cheats). Tonight I will remember the simple joys you only find when you are trapped in your house for a day. Tonight I will stop acting like such a boring adult bemoaning a missed work day. Instead I will remember the simple childlike excitement that always came with a surprise snow day. I will revel in the magic of the freezing rain and slide down my driveway on my bottom (intentionally this time) just to get a belly laugh out of the baby. Tonight I will be a kid again, if only for a fleeting moment.

So cheers, my friends- anyone want to build a snowman?

The Gift of Time

I was once a somewhat materialistic girl. I think we all are to an extent. Now don’t get me wrong, I have never been interested in name brands or personal items meant as status symbloys. I adored things that showed a bit of flare, a hint of the personality hiding just below the surface. I loved my stuff, I grew attached to it, and as such, I always struggled to part with it. And then I moved- and vowed to never again buy another unnecessary item that I would have to cart around with me for the rest of my life. If I ever had to move again, I was just going to burn everything and start over, yep, that seemed like a reasonable remedy. So much easier than packing box after box to haul to the next home. As it turns out, when all is said and done, I am a bit of a liar.

This last time I moved I became introduced to that dreaded three-syllable word: downsizing. It was a painfully therapeutic tool that was a necessary evil in my life. Severing ties with physical objects was difficult for me, far more so than I am willing to admit. I grew up beilieving that even the most trivial items can be repurposed, and that if I decided to finally let go of something, I would enevitably need it immediately. Couple that with the fact that I don’t own things that I don’t like. And if I like it, well I want to keep it. I’m was a recipe for disaster, and a constant frustration for my fiancé who grew up with the ‘get one, lose one’ philosophy; meaning if he wanted a new toy, well, something needed to be traded. As always, he is the yin to my yang. The problem was that we didn’t have room in our new living quarters, nor did we have the funds to dedicate to a storage facility. So we sliced things out of our lives. I combed and purged, combed and purged, over and over again until I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore.

I’ve always wanted to embrace the life of a minimalist. I have read the books, I have started the work. But I’ve never been able to truly belong to the movement. I love color and variety too much to feel comfortable living with only bare essentials surrounding me. I embrace my creative nature in my living space, I don’t feel at home without at least a tiny sense of chaos, of odd juxtaposition, of inspiring objects that leave your mind reaching out for more. So no- I cannot be a minimalist. But I have learned not to bring more into my life than I can handle.

Which is why this particular season can be a bit tricky for my. It is the season of giving and receiving. You see, I am very careful about what physical possessions I bring into my life now. And I am perfectly content with what I have. There is not a single thing that I need. And at this point, I don’t have any extra room to dedicate to superfluous objects. For the first time in a long time I can say that everything I own enriched me in some way. Which is why I find it rather difficult when others demand to know what I want this holiday. The answer of ‘nothing’ does not seem to go over well, many believe it’s just a modest answer that I don’t really mean- you know, one of those tricks us women like to play on the unsuspecting men in our lives. Last night I overheard a conversation between two people that I found rather interesting. The man was like me- he didn’t want or need anything, and he would rather any extra money be spent on his grandkids instead. His wife, however, had a different view of the matter. She got upset that he wouldn’t say anything, and finally yelled, “it’s not always about you. The gift giving isn’t always about you, sometimes it is because other people want to do something nice for you.”

I can’t tell you why I found this so interesting; probably because I know a number of people who show their affection through the physical act of buying things for those that they love. And perhaps it’s also because I do genuinely understand the desire to do something kind for a person that you care for. We all want to see their eyes sparkle when we had them the perfect little item they never would have asked for. We get our own satisfaction in the giving; I’m like this as well.

So this year, I am trying something a bit different. For those in my life who still feel the need to pay for a gift (though I am always quick to tell them that I would rather they spend their money on themselves)- for those that don’t like this answer, I am asking them for something a little bit different. Either a picture of us or something important to us- no frame needed- for me to put up in my office to look at all year round and remind myself why I go in there everyday, something that will make me smile during those moments that test my patience and my kindness. Or else the gift of simple time- this is perhaps the thing most often neglected. We are all too quick to replace our own presence in someone’s life with a memento of us instead. As thoughtful as the item itself may be, nothing can replace the actual time we spend with one another. It could be something as simple as a walk down the street with a cup of coffee looking at Christmas lights, or a lunch at a new restaurant. Or even (as my sister did this year) a little Ugly Christmas Sweater Party with friends and family). This year I would rather we spend our money on experiences to bring us closer together. I am not an overtly social person, and I struggle to get out of my box and join the world some days. So the greatest gift for me is a shared experience with someone willing to give me the greatest gift of all- a few minutes of their precious time. That is all that I need. Not more trinkets to put on a shelf or keep in a box until I move to a bigger house. Just a couple minutes of your time, and perhaps a smile or two. This year I want memories, not merchandise. I want a Christmas to look back on always with the fondest of memories that will outlast anything you could buy in a store.