Just call me Sarah

I push my way out of Marshall's, sidestepping a little old lady. Hop down from the curb, look both ways, and cross to the parking lot. I veer right, toward the Maroon Pontiac G6. Head down, look in my purse for keys. Hit the unlock button. Hmm....the trunk popped. Weird. Probably hit both buttons by accident. Hit unlock again.

Notice the baby in the backseat.

Panic.

I don't have a baby.

(do I?)

No. No. I definitely do not have a baby.

Oh my God. Someone abandoned their baby and left her in the backseat of my car. They must know how much I love children, and that she'll have a good home with me, and I will love her no matter what. I mean I didn't plan on this, but that's ok. I can make it work. Oh what will I name her?!

And then....

"Umm..Miss...what are you doing?"

I look into the wide brown eyes of a pretty, young woman, and see concern.

Ohmagodthisisnotmycar.

"Uh, well, oh my. This is awkward. Like, we have the same car. So I thought it was mine, and the baby was abandoned. Boy it's hot out. I'm sorry. I'm Sarah. Bye."

I wonder if the Tooth Fairy wants to grab a nightcap

I can't remember the last sleepless night I had. But here I am, delirious at 2am on an early Friday morning. I can't force my mind to settle, and rest.

I had that dream again. The one where I'm in a very tall building. And I know the bad people are there. And I head for the stairs. But there he is. Some bad imitation of a mobster. He's strolling. I'm running for my life. And he tells me that if I run I'll just get a pedicure. And you know what he means by pedicure? He'll break my legs. (I don't know, crazy dream lingo) But I know I can't stay. So I fly down those stairs and my heart pounds and I can smell it, and see it, and feel a cold railing beneath my fingers. And on each landing is another guy. Another threat. They are so cold, so calm. What did I ever do to them? That they would want to kill me? And I run for my life.

I always reach the 2nd floor. Never the lobby. And there's a young kid, with blond hair and a cheap, gray suit (I dream in mega-watt, dolby digital detail). And he looks almost apologetic like, "Hey I'm sorry about this whole wanting to kill you thing, but I've got this boss and he's pretty insistent that you die. So..."
And I run past him and he lets me. But I can't find my way off the second floor.

And I wake up. A sheen of sweat. I throw off my covers and let my heartbeat return to normal, and wonder for the millionth time why my Mom hasn't come in to my room to protect me. The bad guys were there. I needed backup. But I'm 26 now. I'm way past the years of Mom fending off dream evil with sleepy reassurances, and a backrub. And well, that's just no good to me.

Life is ever changing. A snake shedding its skin. We must grow or die. Well, not a real death, but a soul death. We must change, or we'll never learn. And I so want to learn. And here I am at 2am getting all philosophical in a mostly dark room, with Otis Redding singing to me about a little tenderness. Isn't that what we all really need? Someone with a soft heart, and gentle hands to tell us, it's all going to be ok.

Morning is coming. I can't stop it anymore than I can stop the years passing, and the hearts breaking, and the dreams shattering, and the love growing, and the Earth spinning. We have so much power, and yet so little. And I think I'm ok with controlling what I can for now. For seeing the forest for the trees or whatever the hell that means. I guess I'm ok with a little growing pain now, for the beautiful future that lay ahead.

So I'll sit in my sweet, silent space. I'll click on these keys, and I'll think about all that I have, and how little others have. I'll remember that true struggles are not having enough to eat, and abused mothers fleeing with children to make a better life, and war, and all those horrible things we'd rather not deal with.

But I will deal. And I will thrive. And maybe one day I'll make it to the lobby of that tall building. And to the revolving door. And then....well....who knows what lay on the other side. But I'd like to find out.

Sweet Jesus...I'm lucky

**Quick Update**

The surprise for Mom had to be postponed. Weather. That's all I can say. It's still a surprise :) We're rescheduling.

****************************************************************************

There's a quote from this old Reese Witherspoon movie (as old as a Reese Witherspoon movie can be) "The Man in the Moon", where Reese's characters older sister says something along the lines of, "What's it like to feel everything?" And I come back often to that line. Because I feel everything. My emotions run a daily express train through gratitude, love, fear, anger, acceptance, hope, joy, anger, and everything in between. . And mostly? Just pure happiness. Because despite my numerous flaws, and mistakes, and the daily grind of life:

"Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life..."
-American Beauty

Long ago I discovered that I'm a restless soul, loving, needing, craving change; the out of the ordinary. I like surprises, and for the plan to change. I don't like routine, it makes me itchy. I'm not afraid of new things. It's getting stuck in a rut that frightens me.

My parents like to say that I always do things the hard way, and that's probably true. It's completely true, actually. But the hard way has taught me more than I'd ever imagined; strength, courage, how to maneuver in this big world, and most importantly that I have so much more to learn.

The past few weeks are a perfect example . I changed jobs, set up a grown-up budget, and am moving in two weeks. And I realized this weekend that my family loves cute bf almost as much as I do. My soul feels more settled than it ever has before. And everyday I wake up with a smile on my face- ready to do it all again or for the first time.

Somewhere I got off track.....feelings. Oh I'm a bundle of feelings. I'm an emotional being. I deeply feel things so I am always aware of how I feel, and concerned with how others feel (though I don't always get that across properly) I'm still working on respecting and protecting my needs and feelings while being cautious of others.

I don't know where I'm going with all this. Maybe I don't need to wrap everything up in a pretty conclusion bow. So I'll leave you with this quote:

"Everyone has dreams, and even if yours didn't work out the way you wanted it doesn't make me any less proud of you. Too many people never really try."
-Three Weeks with my Brother by Nicholas Sparks

Drumroll Please!

It's 6am on the 4th of July. I have a little bit of packing to do, and then I'm outta here for a little while.

My Uncle Chris, big brother Nick, and I are taking my Mom on an adventure. She has no idea what's going on. And if you're reading this: HI MOM! I'M STILL NOT TELLING!

I will post pics and details tomorrow. For now, Happy 4th!!! Enjoy the friends, food, family, and fun!

You have got to be kiddin' me

So Hollywood broke her neck. And I'm not even joking. But everyone thought we were. This is serious stuff people. Granted, the girls and I joke A LOT. And we joke about oh-so-inappropriate things. Yeah..there's that. But this one? This one is TRUE. Hollywood broke her freakin' neck.

Tuesday night, and I wake up like a shot. Sweat pours down my face and for a moment I'm late for class, or work, or....wait... No. It's midnight. I'm not late. I'm early. And there's a quick pull of fear in my belly. So I breathe deep and lay down. And I hear a gentle knock on my door. It's Sunshine.

"Tiff, can I come in? I need to talk to you."

She's calm. Too calm for midnight. Too calm for the fear I already feel.

She comes in. Her orange phone like a beacon light.

"Um, Something's wrong with Holly. I think she broke her neck."

(so for a minute the world stops turning, and all air ceases to move, and the only thing I can do is nothing)

"WHAT??????????????"

We didn't have a lot of information. Hollywood lives in Pennsylvania. We are here in Maryland. 2 1/2 hours away from our crazy broken necked friend. We'll wait for more information. So we wait. And we try to rest. And we don't know how bad it is.

In the morning we hop in the car and make our 85 mile an hour way to Abington hospital in Pennsylvania. On the way up we muse how she got herself in this predicament. Evidently she challenged the bottom of a shallow swimming pool, and the pool won.

At the hospital, we can't find parking. "What the fuck is wrong with Pennsylvania?"
We finally do. Then we find the ER. But she's not there. She's not in her room.

They are sweeping up her room.

"We're not sure if she's coming back."

(um, pardon me. but if you see two panicked girls, looking for their friend who broke her neck, please choose your words more wisely)

She was moved to a private room, one floor up. Sweet jesus. Sweet mercy. Thank you.

And we find her. I kiss her forehead and all she can do is grit her teeth and wince in pain.

It is that bad.

Hollywood, though, is the type of person that cultivates love and laughter anywhere she goes. She's surrounded by people who love her. And not that weird surface love either, the kind that ducks, and runs and is only around when it's convenient. No, she's got the real deal. And it's everywhere. And my God, she didn't have to break her neck for us to prove how much we love her. It's always there.

And as we always do, we try to make the best of a really scary, really big situation. We laugh, and make horribly tasteless jokes. Hollywood teases the nurses. We write down the funny things she says through her morphine haze. We talk about days past. We wonder why "Hot Doctor" is wearing those ugly shoes. We watch "Dennis the Menace" and Hollywood knows it by heart. (Did I tell you she has the soul of an 8 year old?)

She's been flat on her back now for 15 hours. She is in agonizing pain. I don't know how to comfort her other than to wet the cloth on her forehead. To hold her hand and tell her to squeeze when the pain screams.

Sunshine is a hive of activity. She's the information point. She's texting, and calling, and facebooking. She's on damage control. But the rumors spread anyway. And boy, it's amazing what people think up.

I'll take this time to tell you that sleeping, eating, and showering (along with the copious consumption of booze) are not permitted in hospitals. I swear. It's like they set up hospitals just for the sick people! How rude. But I digress.

Finally, on Friday Hollywood's husband arrived to take care of her. He's in the Army and had flown out to Texas the week before. He's a doll, and boy does he love that girl. I tell ya.

I came home late Thursday night. But I didn't want to. (that's another story). And I dreamed of her that night because I worry. And I'm still worried. But ya know what?
She's not dead. She's so goddamn lucky.

Oops

Did I ever tell you about the time I ordered into the trash can at Dunkin' Donuts instead of the speaker?

Or the time my friends pulled UP my skirt in high school in the hallway, or pulled DOWN my pants at the football game?

Or the time I dropped $200 in change at the bank. Pennies rolling everywhere.

Or the time I called someone at my old job "Mrs. Ladywoman" because I didn't know her name and panicked.

Or how about the time I locked myself out of my house, with no shoes, only a sports bra, on a 100 degree day, with a puppy and no leash?

Oh, how about the time I literally tripped on a banana peel in high school?

And then there was the time I broke my ankle, healed, and then broke it again the next day.

Yeah, I'm smooth like that.

Just Beachy

We spent the weekend in Ocean City. By day she's a mild mannered city lady, all warm sun, and families eating ice cream on her boardwalk. By night, she's a seamy temptress, flaunting her neon wares. Liquor here. Bad decisions there. She's loud, obnoxious, and purely sinful; a woman on the make.

But Cute Boyfriend and I had a tame weekend. We strolled the boardwalk perusing tiny, tacky shops, laughing knowingly at the 17 & 18 year old's knee deep in senior week revelry. So young.
I was there just nine short years ago- figuring out that messy arena of young adulthood, and sudden, shocking freedom.

Our weekend was sweet, and fun, and as most things with Cute Boyfriend are: simply lovely.

Friday the weather cooperated. We lay out on the warm sand, jumped over, and under cool ocean waves, and enjoyed the general goodness of a day off work spent together.

And then?

Then there was the buffet. A sexy, glorious, evil spread of food. Oh, the snow crab legs. And the cheesecake. My God the cheesecake. I could eat platefuls. We ate until we all but burst with the sheer gluttony of it all.

And then slept in a room noisy with air conditioning, the sky rumbling above us with a thunderous threat of weather to come.

The sun rose on Saturday, but just barely. Humidity sat heavy on everything; an ever present mistress of Maryland summer. So off we went to the outlets, and Cute Boyfriend got himself some new clothes, and shoes, and I oohed and aahed as he loaded my arms down.

It never did totally clear up- that nervous summer weather. So we showered, and went out late for all you can eat crabs, and beer, and a sunset that hung like a painting in the sky.

And when Sunday morning came we ate some breakfast, packed up and headed home. And like I always am, I was sad to say goodbye.

Real life has pressures, demands, alarm clocks, and bills. But vacation asks nothing. Just that you kick up your feet, and stay awhile.