egads

time flies. it has been a CRAZY summer. Mostly good, but a lot crazy.

No time for a big update at the moment, suffice to say, when I am (hopefully) extremely ancient and grey and no longer able to care for myself, someone just please put me out of my misery. Looking at nursing facilities for my mom (for just a short couple week stay before she comes home from this current hospitalization) is depressing. The places I've seen are almost all just terrible, and I feel horribly for folks who don't have anyone who acts as their advocate. I swear, I think most of the places I've seen would be cited for violating the UN's definition of "crimes against the peace and security of mankind". egads.
wish me luck. off to look at a SNF this morning way the hell out in the foothills (WTF?!)

Hot time, summer in the city

Blog! Hello! How are we today?

Since last we've spoken written, many things have happened, indeed.

1) I have been dating a wonderful man for two months (as of tomorrow, if we must be all official about it). Long-distance as we are, we're making it work. TGFS = Thank God for Skype!

2) Mom almost died a little over three weeks ago. Her heart stopped, and she face-planted onto the floor, scaring the hell out of me and Dad. Thanks to God, Dad's refresher CPR courses, the South Denver Fire and Rescue squad, a newly installed pacemaker and an intense 10 days of acute rehab, not only is she still with us she is doing well. And she got to come home yesterday. So, we are celebrating Independence Day in more ways than one around here.

3) I'm going to Brazil in November. I almost forgot about the trip, but, Mom gave me miles for a plane ticket, and I'm going with a group of friends from SF (one of whom is from there AND happens to be a travel agent...I can't wait). Looking forward to it!

4) I had my first (and so far, only) Colorado singing gig last weekend! It was fun - a concert fundraiser for a local opera company - and, well, hopefully that will lead to a few more things!

5) It's *finally* settling on me that I have moved. I knew it would take a while for that to sink in. I'm glad I moved, but I do miss my SF peeps. Lack of established peer community has been difficult. Even though I have a handful of friends here (and a couple of those close), it's not quite the same. BUT, making progress.

6) My birthday is in a week...weird! I plan on getting a massssssage...aahhhhhhhhhhhh

Quick update

Up in the mountains...ma is home from her third hospitalization/rehab stay (hoping she can stay at home longer than a couple of weeks this time, but I'm not totally sure about that.)...have fallen madly in love with a Good Man, and though we have some geographical separation at the moment, we are working with it...CO is gorgeous in the summer...life is grand. Not without challenges, but grand all the same!

I hardly remember my dreams anymore,
but what I recall is
you.

The turn of a phrase,
The wellspring of a laugh,
The serenade of a shared tune.

He has orchestrated a
beautifully spun double-whorl
only just beginning its incline around the first
bend.

I hardly remember my dreams
and yet, I find myself eyes wide open
in the midst of one.

And I hope and pray that I stay dreaming,
lest these new found recollections of you
fade
forever.

the whatif's

Right now my life is a series of what-if's. And I'm learning to be okay with that, and not jump to any conclusions ahead of myself...something that is hard for me, but something I'm working on.


For the moment...2011 is still a year full of unknown possibility. What if I get to work in the mountains all summer? What if I don't? What if I land some singing gigs? What if I don't? What if this is the year I fall madly in love? What if it isn't? What if my mom outlives us all? What if she doesn't? What if I learn to tune out all the little what if's and enjoy the moments as they come? ...and what if I don't?

Many, many things to ponder and to which I look forward. And things yet unknown lingering just beyond the horizon.

Whatif - by Shel Silverstein
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pol?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow tall?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems swell, and then
The nighttime Whatifs strike again!

...for something completely diffetent

Let the record show that I like hairy men, and don't understand the obsession with a guy having a waxed/shaved chest.  Chest hair is manly!  Unless there is a unibrow or excessive nose hair involved - in which case, clean that up - guys, don't worry about it. /PSA.

The silent screams
were the hardest to bear

Mouth    agape
Eyes fixed on some
far
off
point.
The pain behind them too much
to comprehend from an
outside perspective

It's not you
It's more like some alien fish gasping for breath
pulled suddenly ashore

I sit there

helpless

tears in my eyes, too.

Praying as hard as I can that this paroxysm will soon pass and
that the deafening silence will cease its roaring

Moment

Finding out that your mom has a signed DNR - even if you suspected as much - is an oddly crystallizing moment.

and more cleaning

I've spent the better part of the past two months getting rid of stuff. Goodwill, recycling, trashing, giving away to friends...going through the crap that accumulates over 10 years of living in the same city.

And then I moved home. Well, "home." I've never lived in the house my parents currently live in; they moved sometime while I was in college. At the time, I was happy to be far away in Texas, so that I didn't have to do any of the moving work. I do have a room in the 'new' house, in the basement, and I've probably spent an accumulative total of about 4-5 months here, since sometime in the late '90s.

All that said . . . this weekend I continued on with my getting-rid-of-stuff streak and tackled my closet here. A closet full of clothes from high school, some college stuff and summers spend working in NC. And...holy crappe, indead! It was a veritable treasure trove of forgotten goodies: swim team sweats; graduation outfit;  white high heels for said outfit; a plethora of ribbed (!?) sweaters and oversize, stretched-out sweatshirts and sorority t-shirts. (I kept one fugly Christmas sweater that had been my grandmothers, in the hopes of hosting (or attending?) an ugly Christmas sweater party this year. I plan ahead.)

Once you get start the process of purging your stuff, it becomes easier and easier to keep going. And I didn't feel bad about getting rid of things because 1) They were all so outdated; and 2) I couldn't have worn any of it anyway...I'm smaller now than I was my senior year, so that makes me happy! And something even happier than THAT? I also cleaned out the dresser and I now have a place to keep my underwear! Simple pleasures, indeed.

I still have boxes of books to go through which are currently stacked along one side of the closet, blocking me from hanging up anything tall/long (dresses, etc); and the nightside dresser. All in good time. I really want to finish it this week, though.

Also on this week's agenda: go to the dmv (yay...I think); and see if the 24-hour fitness down the street has a trial pass. I think I'm going to join that branch, but so far I've not had any time to go at all, due to my mom needed someone at the house at all times, and the few times "off" I have had, I've already been doing a bunch of other errands and all. Whew. I hit the ground running, I guess . . . 

you are here

I started this blog after much convincing by AZ that this was the cool thing do to AND a fun way to stay in touch with folks from college, etc. So...I started it. Some years I've written more than others, and sometimes it's pretty hilarious (to me) to read old posts and wonder "what the hell was I whining about?" AHHH, youth...

Blogging tapered off a lot last year, but I figured I'd give it another, more habitual, go, seeing as I'm now the one who has moved, and this will also be a place to vent from time to time.

Now that I'm all but moved home (my car and a carload of stuff is in CA until the end of the month), I'm working on carving out a routine here. I have never been in such as position as I am right now, as far as not having to report to either a classroom or an office by xyz time, so I am attempting to not squander this window of free time. I have to admit that I am biding my job search time a little, since in a perfect world, the possible part-time mountain job will be a reality (3days up/4 days in Denver) and the following academic year, I'll have a full-time singing gig! Dream big! why not?
Anyway, the current routine entails working out, singing (working on audition rep) and basically trading mom-sitting time back and forth with Dad. This entails: getting her ready and driving to doc appointments, making sure she takes her meds on time; cooking dinners; etc. Mom basically needs someone with her all the time, and since she really cannot leave the house on her own accord, that means someone needs to be at home with her. We have in-home CNA (certified nursing assistant) help about half the time - which is when I can go to the gym, practice, run errands, etc. - but that is not covered by insurance at all *shakes fist*. I really don't understand WTF is going on with that.

Anyway. It's all about balance. Everyday with mom is up and down. Good/bad. Easy/Difficult. Joy/Tears. I knew it would be, but I better buckle my seat belt for this wild ride, and hold on tight. And thank God for old friends welcoming me back to Denver with open arms...! That has been a lovely, lovely thing.

Taxi:Taxi

The grey stones echoed

The grey skies echoed

The grey interior echoed

The tears streaming down my cheeks.

20 years young, but already an old soul, riding through the rain-dampened city

Ancient cathedrals juxtaposed with street-cleaning green machines

The early morning silence broken only by the wafting voices of radiofrance.

I thought my world was ending.

The blue bay echoing

The blue skies echoing

The blue Victorians echoing

The blue duffel bag balanced across my lap.

31 years (young!), still an old soul, riding down the sun-kissed freeway

Ancient hills juxtaposed with green-driving clean machines

The mid-afternoon rush silenced only by the contemplations of a decade well-spent.

The world begins afresh

La raison pour laquelle c'est . . .

l'existence d'un monde en vivant au couleur rouge, orange, jaune, noir foncé.
tout les couleurs qui brûlent
peut-être un jour (ôse-je le dire?) turquoise! violet! azuré!
les couleurs encerclantes

...l'existence d'un air de contentement
...une joie de vivre
...un certain sens de la . . . je ne sais quoi

c'est à cause d'un ton, d'un mot, d'un rit?
Un lien inconnu plein de la possibilité?
la raison pour laquelle?
est à toi, maintenant, de la m'expliquerais...

reset

Imagine a giant reset button – like the one on the original NES: a big, grey, spring-loaded button.  When the game got stuck (as was wont to happen) or you wasted too many of your lives, you could reach up, push it, and with a satisfying screek of the spring-action, all would be made right in the world of Mario and his brother (maybe it was just ours that made that noise after too many resets).

I feel as if I have been lent a real-life version of this button. Not because I’ve wasted too many lives, but because I did get stuck for a little while, mainly in the depression that encompassed me after Katie died. There was no way to prepare for that – why would there be – and it literally turned my life upside-down; sucked the life out of my sails; consumed me. And now, thank God for therapy and amazing family and friends, I can look back down at those valleys and it hits me so very clearly that I was not myself. I was a shell of myself. And I am so very glad to be “back.” And though that experience has left its mark (on so many folks), I am now grateful – and not just sad – when those memories crop up, such as the little notes I’d find from her when I was packing up my apartment. Bittersweet, yes, but now I can see the sweet after the bitter, whereas before I couldn’t make it through to the second half of that word.  

So now – as I sit in the airport waiting for my flight home – home! – to Denver, my brain races with anticipation. My boarding this flight is the push of the reset  button . . .  and when I disembark on the other side, well, that’s the screek of the release. The release into a somewhat unknown world.  I am the same player that I was, just a more knowledgeable, experienced and hopefully wiser one.

Thrilling. Terrifying. Exciting. Bring on the Koopas!

(Remember the Game Genie for the original Nintendo system? You could figure out the codes and cheat your way through a particularly difficult level of say, Super Mario Bros 3. Or if you were just feeling lazy, you could also use it to beat a game faster than you normally could.)

But I digress. Okay. Time to board…

God has a sense of humor

...sometimes He is "ha ha" funny, and sometimes He is just . . . funny in that uncanny way He has of convicting/reminding us of whatever it is we are in need of being convicted or reminded of at the time.

I've had several conversations over the last month about how I am not worried about what lay ahead for me in CO. I don't know what I'll be doing. I don't know where I will eventually be living, nor how I will keep balance between my sanity and the physical needs of my mom when I'm at home. Sometimes, though, I start double-guessing myself and questioning..."wait...shouldn't I be worried? Oh crap, I should be worried that I'm NOT worried!?" That is a dangerous spiral to head down, and I am grateful to God, family and the friends who have kept me from diverting on to that path. And this morning? I went to church for the first time in a month (due to many reasons), and the sermon? It was this:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6: 25-34)

As bumpy a faith-journey that I've encountered over the past two years, I have not strayed so far as to forget whence I've come, and what (and who) it is that ultimately sustains me. For such constant reminders and examples of the above that I've had since my decision to move...wow, for those (and to God), I am thankful beyond what I can put into words here. 

James Cromwell on acting

Several years ago, when I was taking an improv acting class, the teacher sent out this James Cromwell quote:

Basically, what you are doing out there is you. When it comes down to it, what the people see, what they want to see, is not a role or a character or a piece of work.

What they want to see is you. Your breath, your thoughts, your laughter, your violence, your pain, all of it.

What you have to ask yourself is, "Where am I in all of this and how am I going to communicate that?" That's when you notice that you flinch, that you duck and pull away from those parts of yourself that you are unwilling to have other people see. But that's where the gravy is, where your talent is, where the life resides. You have to keep going back there, to trust that the terrible has already happened, that you've survived and that you're okay, exactly the way you are.

You have to walk toward the demons, not run from them. And you'll find that if you put out your hand, not as a fist, but palm up, you'll go right through them like tissue paper. That's when you can be in the moment, any moment.

When I read this seven or eight years ago, a light bulb went off for me: acting meant putting yourself out there - letting go, as it were. As an introvert (albeit one with extroverted tendencies), that was quite difficult for me at first to do on stage, as it was difficult for me in real life. But the thing about acting? Everything is "safe"; there are no repercussions (method acting aside, perhaps?) to cutting loose and letting everything hang out on stage. Why not? What have you got to lose? It takes time, though, to learn as an actor of how to get to that place. Of practicing enough to train your brain that it's okay to access that color or pursue that emotional response. It's very odd, strange and wonderful thing to be onstage, but I digress a little.

Last month, I had the pleasure of singing on a fantastic flamenco-themed concert. I love any kind of Latin/Spanish/"exotic" sounding music, and this was a super fun gig for me. However, that said, it took a great deal of focus for me to get out of my own head and "let go" into some of the parts of the concert...namely, the Carmen excerpts I had to sing. Not only was this all "concert style" (read: no sets nor costumes to fall back on), but I was the ONLY singer. That was a first for me...thrilling as it was, I knew I had to bring my "A" game to this one, and quite frankly, Carmen's naked sensuality - naked in the sense that her sensuousness is so open and public - scared me a little. I - in my own life - definitely have that side, but am not quite so laid bare in public, as it were. (Ah - the introvert strikes again!) So, I was mulling all of this over one day on my hour-long drive out to rehearsal...really trying to get inside of my head and Carmen's psyche, and seeing where the twain should meet up - or not, perhaps, and a few things dawned on me:
1. It had been a LONG time since I had had to play that particular seductive color onstage. Mostly? I am the old ladies; the nurses; the crazy folks; the best friend...all those characters are close to my surface, ready to be brought forth fairly easily. Carmen? She was in there somewhere - I just had to dig her out from under all those other people.
2. A word of advice from my voice teacher: just let go. Just let go! Let go and don't watch yourself - just - sing the hell of it.
3. A word of advice as posted on my facebook: "Say yes, to everything"; so I said yes to Carmen, yes to taking the time to envision the life of an olive-skinned gypsy; yes to spending time with a fringed mantilla, learning how to not get it tangled on my head when I swished it around; yes to walking around my home with flamenco music playing until I could easily transition my walk from blond-blue-eyed-protestant-raised-opera-singer to a more earthy-gypsy-pelvis-driven-cigarette-factory-worker's sway; and yes to finally letting go.


And I had SO much fun come showtime.

the final countdown

...more than just a great song.

I'm in the final (final?) countdown of the move. The pods are in storage. Ecohaul has taken away the crappe accumulated over 10+ years. And I sit in a very echo-y place typing this and putting off (for one night) the rest of the sorting-through-of-important-papers I need to do.

I fly out Monday. Only to be back at the end of the month with my dad (he's coming for a business trip) to have a little respite time, too, for him from mom.

I am...equal parts excited, happy, nervous, optimistic, curious, stressed and ready for this move. Still have a lot of unknowns as to some of the details...but they will work out.

Time for bed. But first, check THIS out.

flotsam and jetsam

bubble wrap (therapeutic or annoying?) box tops miscellaneous buttons
there's that 9-volt I needed for the smoke detector at 2am
why did I keep so many old Christmas cards?

tools . . . scattered willy-nilly . . . but why don't I have that stupid little ikea key anymore? flashlights and earthquake kits (safety first!)
I. am. RICH! in pennies

clothes shoes bags wine paper paper paper paper papers!!
oh god, the toiletries. gotta figure out what to do with those.
and when did I amass duplicate assorted cleaning supplies?

jewelry watch ooh forgot about that piece forbidden rock from the middle of a park
matchless socks (bad dryer!) and old t-shirts (great for packing)

now is the tedious part.
sifting, sorting, recycling, trashing. good thing I still have some tunes. and some time. uh oh I'm out of tape. but not boxes.
locks, cards, markers, albums, photos, coasters, pens, memories

...where the eff are my keys?

rambling 0100 thoughts

I am always high on adrenaline after performances, and tonight is no different.

It's late, I should be asleep, but I have not *quite* hit my wall just yet. Tonight's performance went well (excerpts from "Carmen" and soloist for "El Amor Brujo"), and I had a ton of fun. Mostly because it's fun music, but also because the gigs have been a little sparse since October (but mostly due to two being canceled, and one which I had to step out of in order to travel back/forth so much.)

Anyway. It felt good. I feel good...I feel inspired to tackle the applications for two upcoming CO auditions, which I hope to be granted a time slot for...gotta keep up this momentum! wheee!

Love to you all out there on this Valentine's Day! Is it weird to sing Carmen on Valentine's eve? hahaha (L'amour est un oiseaux rebelle...love is a rebellious bird?)

On Floyd

Floyd is my mother’s four-wheeled walker. He’s bright cherry red and can be found in various corners of our house often having carried off Mom’s insulin, water glass, or any number of other assorted trinkets. He’s a well-behaved piece of mechanics: he never talks back, is always glad to help out, and is – thank goodness! – house trained.

Floyd’s name was my father’s idea. We are big fans of the comic strip Maxine in our household, and Maxine has a dog called Floyd. When Mom came home from the hospital on December 31, we decided the walker needed a name. It sounds much more agreeable, and much less “old”, to ask mom where Floyd is rather than “Where’s your walker, mama? You shouldn’t be wandering around without it!” My dad, who saves his Maxine-A-Day calendars every year, decided upon Floyd. Why would it be called anything else?

(Side note: my mother has a second 4WD walker, Walker Texas Ranger. He is black, and lives in the garage for car trips. This was the walker my mother used in the hospital, and on the day she came home, it was so slushy outside that the wheels got all gross, so WTR has been relegated to the role of outside pet. Additionally, he has a Harley Davidson emblem taped to the front of him; Mom always said she wanted a Harley.)

Over the past couple weeks at home in Denver, I’ve spent countless hours talking about, or directly to, Floyd. “You can’t go that way with Floyd, mom, you have to go around the other direction; your oxygen line is not long enough to go the long way.” “Where’s Floyd?” “FLOYYYYYD, where are you?" “Don’t forget about Floyd.” “Good dog.” Oh yes, he has become the family pet, albeit one that takes very little effort, which is a good thing – since his owner takes considerably more effort to keep fed, medicated, bandaged and comfortable.

The next order of business for Floyd is to find him some flair to complement his bright red paint job. He’s been a faithful servant to date, and I think he deserves a little bling. I wonder if MTV could be convinced to Pimp His Ride (is that TV show even on anymore?)

As I type this, seated on a plane back to SF for a final concert and packing-up of my home there, my thoughts drift to Floyd, and the precious woman to whom he belongs. Carry on, good Floyd, and keep up the good work.

Na

Comics like this make me unreasonably happy.

there is nothing quite like karaoke in the afternoon

Had my "official" going-away party on Saturday. A last-minute family emergency for AZ (who was going to graciously host at her home), meant a location change from an open house/house party afternoon to karaoke at The Mint. I felt like I was walking into my own personal Cheers. Somehow, the occasional karaoke night morphed into more regular time spent there over the past 10 years, and the kj's and owner knew me. Go figure.

I am not one to spend daylight hours in a bar (usually), so once my eyes adjusted, I realized that we would not be the only party there at 3pm on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. Who knew? Ultimately, it was a fun 5-hour party! I think, though, the highlight was when my music-world friends crashed the stage and serenaded me with the chorus of Hail Poetry from The Pirates of Penzance. That was quite a special moment.

Tomorrow is a day of running around like crazy. SO, I am headed off to bed!

toes on the edge

I'm standing on the edge of the great unknown. Friday (well, today) is my last day of work! I've worked in the same place for one week short of six years, and that is hard to believe.

I feel as if I've been handed a giant reset button. I mean - so much is a blank slate! I could reinvent myself completely! Erase my past and become a spy or something. Or not - I appreciate whence I've come too much to do that :) Besides, I have already changed so much as a result of happenings over the past couple, three years that I think that *that* process of reinvention started a looong time ago. Maybe it's because I'm an early thirty-something, along with those happenings, but I am way more comfortable in my own skin than I was when I was younger, and I really appreciate and enjoy that.

2011. Shall be a year of thriving, I believe. But first...one final "normal" day.

And a SH*T ton of boxes to pack.

I *must* be an opera singer

...because I got all teary-eyed when I had to say goodbye to my ENT/Allergist today.
Ear, Nose, Throat specialist = Singer's BFF.

Strange? Maybe. He really is the best doc I've ever had, and is such a wise, patient and knowledgeable guy. I am grateful to him for taking care of me for the past several years. Thanks, Dr. T!!!



(Also? I really like scarves.)

it depends on how one defines "productive"

This weekend, I:
. . . spent time with beloved friends
. . . had my first skype video chat
. . . I said some more goodbyes
. . . I spent time outside in God's creation, at Pinnacles National Monument, Crissy Field, Sonoma, and the Marin Headlands (like I said - "productive") soaking in the beauty and majesty, feeling His love and getting grounded. Some pics in the process of being posted on my hiking blog
. . . I spent time alone
. . . I spent time singing along to my car radio
. . . I stared at the empty moving boxes in my living room.
They are as yet un-filled.

Productive, indeed.

I wonder if it transfers newsprint?

shouldn't have had that last cup of chai

...because that stuff is caffeinated, and I always forget that little fact.
So I am up and awake and have been catching up on my email.

I have started to say my farewells. And it is so bittersweet. I hate saying goodbye to people, and in a lot cases, this isn't goodbye forever, but it's just a huge change. Not bad, but Hard. In particular, I emailed a particular group of singers whom I have had the honor of working with at least a dozen times over the past 5.5 years. I will miss them incredibly.

In their honor - and from a show I got to sing with said group - here's a song from the Noel Coward musical, Bittersweet.

I'll see you again, whenever Spring breaks through again.
Time may lie heavy between, but what has been is past forgetting.
This sweet memory across the years will come to me.
Though the world may go awry, in my heart will ever lie,
Just the echo of a sigh . . . Goodbye!
I'll see you again, whenever Spring breaks through again.
Time has lain heavy between, but what has been can leave me never.
Your dear memory throughout my life will come to me.
Though my world has gone awry, though the years my tears may dry, I shall love you 'til I die . . . Goodbye!

2011(!)(?)

I would like to start with a side note: I can't believe I've had this blog since 2004.
/end side note

It's 2011. There is a change in store for me. Many, in fact. And I am trying to "be cool" and not worry about too many details, since many of those changes are actually questions without an answer off the top of my head.

I am relocating to Denver - HOME! - over the course of the next several weeks.
No, I don't have a job. No, I don't have my own place yet. No, I don't have any firm plans as to how I'm getting from A to B.

I am headed to CO to be with my family, to help out with Mom & Dad, and generally get adjusted to this new normal of a family dynamic. After 2.5 months in the hospital, my mom is finally home and she needs a LOT of assistance. Though I am by no means going to be her 'nurse,' I'm glad to be nearer to her and to dad to help out where and when I can. As bittersweet as it will be to leave my home by the bay - where I've been for just shy of 10 years - I feel like it's (past) time for a big, physical upheaval. I don't want to be *stuck* here anymore - nor do I really want to plant any deeper roots than I already have. After three important weddings in 2010, I realized yet again that where your heart is, there is your home. And I didn't want my heart to be tied down to the East Coast, Texas or the Bay Area as are the hearts of three of my closest companions. Those are three lovely areas, but I want the freedom to go up to my beloved Rockies more often, spend time with the family, and travel *elsewhere* on my vacation time! Granted, my mother's health has not been the ideal catalyst for such a change, but it was the final push out of (back to?) the nest, as it were.

So. Vicissitudes aplenty!