a gypsy birthday

my birthday was earlier this week and i was on the road teaching.  i was staying in a little mountain town by myself.  the day started off a bit sad, with mediocre pancakes at a highway diner (and not a highway diner that in any way begs for its photograph to be taken).  with some encouragement from instagram and facebook friends, i made a conscious effort to improve the day.  and it worked.

here is what happened:

• i discovered that the person i was working with that day (which is totally a random assignment) had their birthday the exact same day.  
• i played sirius xm 1st wave all day long and it was like hearing the soundtrack to my life.  i was lost in remembering beautiful moments and people who helped make me who i am.
• also, i still know all the words to all the songs!  and i sang loudly and badly because i was in the car by myself.  i'm pretty proud of this.
• a strawberry birthday cupcake with a candle to blow out after my wish.
• a little bag of confetti at the bottom of my purse (inspired by hulaseventy).  it was thrown.
• i left hotel housekeeping a big tip because i got a bit carried away with the confetti enthusiasm.  it was everywhere.  i know it must have sucked to have to vacuum it up, but i also hope it made her smile momentarily.
• a girl on the street told me i looked like carrie brownstein on portlandia.  thank you very much.
• i went for a walk in the tiny downtown beautifully lit up for christmas.  i stumbled across the greatest little dress shop with colorful stars that hung from the ceiling and the best music playing.
• while in the shop i was quietly singing along to the smiths when a total stranger began singing too.  we both looked at each other and smiled and continued to sing the rest of the song together.  it was awesome.
• i got an early gift from mr. parks and they are the best birthday gift ever:  vintage floral dr. martens.  it's good to be known.

a different drummer

today i am 48.  a happy 48.  i am loved, safe, healthy.  and (maybe, finally) understood.

i received a birthday card from my mom and dad yesterday.  it was the first sentiment i've received from my parents that felt like true understanding.  it refers to (and celebrates) me as a "true original" and "someone who dances to her own beat".  this may seem trivial to some, but this 5x8 hallmark card represents forty-eight years of struggle on all our parts:  me, a quirky girl with a imaginative mind, daring ideas and endless curiosity, fighting (sometimes literally) to be who she is and them, concerned parents desperately wishing for a more grounded, agreeable and traditional child.

it's the best gift ever:  being loved and accepted for who you are.

speaking of birthdays, i am on the faith squared advent calendar with a little nod to another december baby.  (it may be later today when it goes live.)

the image above is a shot of rusty belle performing on the charlotteville walking mall on saturday.  how much do you love his drum built from scraps, a pan and a baby shoe?  and his swanky sunshine shoes?  pure joy.  i wish you could have heard the music.

sweet december

be tender with me, month of mine.

every year you come around and i think about birthday dinners at shakey's pizza or happy steak and then homemade cake at the house. i can see the angelfood cake on the kitchen counter turned upside down on a coke bottle to loosen it from the pan.  i liked to lick the strawberry frosting off the candles after the singing, the wishing, the blowing.

also:
wood fires.
mexican cocoa.
unwrapping a homemade tamale.
the tink-tink-tink of the christmas lights knocking together as dad climbed the ladder to the roof.
the good-natured swearing under his breath.
i held on to the bottom of the ladder to make sure he was safe.
the pink-red camillias that bloomed in the backyard.
pomegranates split open on the tree, ready for devouring.
the whir of the heaters in the almond groves.
barbie and skipper stopping by the nativity to pay their respects.
paul anka on the turntable.

remember when we would pile in the car with thermoses of chocolate to drive around and look at the lights?  i always fell asleep in the backseat to the soft sound of mom and dad talking about their own childhoods. 

remember that time when i was twelve and wished i was invisible?  you conjured up fog for days, so thick that it devoured the valley and i safely disappeared from sight.

thank you for that.

just like me you have a raw edge and a bit of an unexpected bite, while at the same time your capacity for story, wishes, comfort and imagination feels limitless.

every year you come around with the best gifts.  these memories of you and i playing quietly together, dreaming and becoming the brightest among december girls.

hooray for me, hooray for you

small but meaningful recent accomplishments:

• christmas tree up and lit
• survived (and weirdly, kinda liked) first bikram class and going back today
• stopped myself from buying a vintage coat and felt okay with it
• made art all weekend
• ate the most amazing pistachio gelato sprinkled with crumbled up italian cookies and candied pistachios on my birthday with zero guilt and absolute bliss
• am happy to be 46.  i feel good and am really excited about life.  my birthyear sister graciel noted that, numerologically speaking, my age now equals 1, which symbolizes the beginning.  how can i not be excited about that?

one little moment on the big c gave me some beautiful perspective on age.  if you don't know the show (first of all, it's incredible!), cathy is 40-ish and has just been diagnosed with cancer.  she really begins to cherish life and live it like she's always wanted to.   her aunt comes to her birthday party when she hasn't yet told her family she is ill. the aunt is in her fifties, is dressed in a cheap dress from the junior department and has that face (you know the face!) morphed into unrecognizableness from too many surgeries.  when they are saying goodbye at the door, cathy looks at her with love and says, "it's a privilege to grow old."

what have you done recently that deserves celebrating?  tell me in the comments.  i'll be over here applauding your brilliance.

beatlemania, courtney love and me

we're forty-five!!!!

that's a lot of candles people. a lot.

forty four

that's a good number.

I've been inspired by lovely ms. hula to create a list of things to do in this year.

1. enjoy a concert or two {yes!}
2. rehab the art studio {not even close...}
3. plant more peonies and dahlias for armloads come summer {accomplished the "more" part, maybe not so much "armloads"...}
4. inspiration wall {done.}
5. send gifts for no reason {working on this...}
6. enter a photo contest
7. have a dinner party
8. photograph a baby or a baby bump {oh baby w}
9. the dressing room {almost there.}
10. make strawberry cupcakes {I think lemon french macarons meet this criteria nicely.}
11. see a movie at a drive-in
12. teach simon a trick {he uses his indoor voice...well, sometimes.}
13. sit in the sand and be with the ocean
14. finish the dining room {fini!}
15. get a photo of the giant woodpecker
16. make a quilt
17. explore two american cities
18. purge and donate {does this ever get completed?}
19. visit two museums
20. go to the zoo
21. see the milky way {fabulously so: lying under a bowl of stars with my cabinmates, squam lake lapping at the pier and loons crying in the distance.}
22. read three classics
23. do more yoga {so yes!}
24. hike crabtree falls
25. summer backyard party {does one husband and three dogs make a party? I think so.}
26. ride my bike
27. buy a piece of art
28. make a piece of art {lots and lots and lots...}
29. start/join a book club {did it. love it.}
30. foreign cinema {some.}
31. sundays at the flea market {some.}
32. cook a meal worthy of le creuset {working on this...}
33. have a picnic
34. rollerskate
35. write a poem
36. travel abroad
37. teach {loved it but did something even more important: learned.}
38. belly dance
39. make paella
40. meet a new friend {yes!}
41. reconnect with an old friend {and yes!}
42. make a valentine for my valentine {oui!}
43. a yard circled in jasmine and honeysuckle {getting there...}
44. lighten up {I think so.}
    

forty four, I'm happy to meet you.