Trust the Process

Our plane touched down in San Jose last night.  It is my practice to only fly if heavily inebriated, so my recollection is a tad foggy, but I'm pretty sure I sacrificed a fatted calf, did 500 Hail Mary's, and vowed a life of chastity to the divine powers that be.  We had landed.  We were still alive.  Somehow, the near-death experience of flying in the belly of a large clumsy metal beast (which, I have under good authority, is the work of VOODOO), made the whole foreboding 'end of vacation' thing a little less tragic.

It always happens.  Vacations end.  I'm aware of it from the very start.  It looms over me, getting heavier as the days, hours... moments, of vacation slip away.  I dread it.  Inevitably it takes three quarters of the vacation to adjust to the new agenda of having fun.  Then, just as I've found my groove, it's done.  Time to go home.  Back to the stuff; the busy, stressful, messy stuff that made the vacation necessary in the first place.  I start making deals with father time, "if you just give me one more week, I'll be ready to go.... I promise."

After years of being me, and working with myself, I've learned that I have a process.  And, when working on a design project, or writing a paper, I've learned to trust that process.  I'm confident that if I just see it through, the end result will be inspiring.

As a designer, it can be very frustrating to have a delay half way through a project installation because it leaves the client hanging with only a piece of the final result.  This can make them anxious and cause them to second guess the decisions made. And, when I'm up there on the ledge with them, I frequently find myself saying, "trust the process;  allow the details to fill in before you panic; if you don't love it, we'll fix it."  They always love it.

I have the same pep talks with myself when I'm writing.  Staring at the mess of words on the screen (or worse, no words at all), doubt and creative paralysis set in.  I close my eyes, breath deep and slow, calm the anxiety, and remind myself to trust the process.

Slowly... very... s.l.o.w.l.y...  I am learning to trust this same process as I wait impatiently for the details of my life to fill in.  For instance, when I move to a new home, I can expect it to take me about a year to start feeling settled.  No matter how fabulous the move is, I will get depressed and feel homesick during the packing/unpacking phase.  I will feel the OCD bugs crawling all over me in the initial weeks in my new house.  But, as pictures get hung, I begin to connect with my surroundings.  I've moved many times.  It happens every time.  It is my process.  And knowing this about myself allows me to be patient with the pain of transition.  I'm able to trust that I will find peace on the other side.

We stumbled through the door with a disoriented toddler dangling from my arms and mountains of luggage hanging haphazardly from Klee.  It was late.  The house felt... cold.  On autopilot, we drug the bags up the stairs, changed the baby and got him to bed, rummaged for our toothbrushes, and collapsed into bed.  Our bed, with the worn-in body-shaped trenches and the bleach-spotted pillow cases... and the soft billowy down comforter that keeps us warm in the cold Northern California nights.  It felt good.  We were home.

Home.  In Hawaii, people would ask us where we were from.  We'd answer, "the Bay area, San Francisco," and I would feel a twinge of pride.  I woke up this morning, loaded up the coffee machine (the coffee machine that doesn't know when to stop dripping, so it spills all over the counter when you go to pour a cup of coffee, even though it pretended to be done brewing), and walked out back to check on the garden.  The tomatoes are starting to produce.  The loquats are turning yellow.  I pulled a few new weeds and picked three red strawberries. My heart felt full.  Happy.  Home.

It's just my process.

I Hit the Motherlode!

Elli and I set out for an Ikea outing yesterday when we happened upon a local estate sale.  I have almost no ability to resist garage/yard/estate sale signs, so we detoured.  Fortunately, my Mr. shares in my sickness, so the only reprimand I receive from these detours is for going without him.

Anyway, I found FABULOUS! I can not wait to post these treasures in our shop! Hats! Scarves!  Bohemian Beads! Polka dots! Ruby depression glass! Linen!

I'm beyond giddy. 

Fast Forward

Tidbits and thoughts from my life since May-ish...

In May, we managed to find a new home to rent.

Finding a rental, in a renter-saturated market, when your credit has been obliterated, is kinda like childbirth... Ugly, painful, and better with drugs.

Fortunately, after only a few (6) denials, we were able to find a home with enough cosmetic flaws to make us look  not-so-delinquent good to the landlord.

So, we've been sanding, painting, fighting, drilling, nailing, crying, and... Repeat.  

View from my bedroom window

But you know me.  I LOVE my projects.  So, it kinda feeds my insanity.  Actually, this home is perfect.  The more we paint, prune, and prop, the more ours it becomes.  And it sits right above a creek with a mountainside of trees.  I still can't believe we live here.

June brought graduations and summer vacation.  My boys were promoted to middle school.  My daughter was promoted to high school. And I was promoted to... old.

After the graduations, we headed to Yosemite for Klee's family's annual reunion.  Apparently, the cabins, which they usually reserve, were all booked up, so we stayed in tents.
I know you die-hards think this sounds great, but from where I was not sleeping, an 8 month old baby, 30 degree nights, and bears, was just a little too close to nature.

Of course, Yosemite was amazing when I was thawed out enough to stop shaking.

We were so lucky to be invited to Morro Bay to spend the fourth of July with Klee's family.  It was amazing to be able to give my kids an actual vacation.



We spent hours on the beaches, perused the antique shops, and even saw a movie!

Affogato

But the best discovery was the Affogato.  It should require a prescription as I'm pretty sure it would heal most ails.  I'm looking into it. Anyway, Affogato go now.  (snork, snork)







July 24th was my mother's 70th birthday, so we loaded up and headed down to Ventura county to throw her a birthday bash, complete with cupcakes and pinata.  The cupcakes filled my need to obsess perfectly.  The pinata was just hillarious.  It withstood everyone's blows until my brother, Darin, finally took it down to the ground Rocky style.

While we were down south, Darin and I took a day to go visit our 100-year-old grandfather, Herb Wiles, aka Papa Bear.

I treasured the chance to sit and chat with Papa Bear and his enormous cat, PrinceKit.

(My younger brother's girlfriend, Meagan, theorizes that PrinceKit is just compensating for all of the pictures, etc., of large tigers and lyons that my grandfather keeps around.)

While we were there, Papa showed us an old painting of Darin's.







We're back home now.  Back into our projects...

School starts Monday.  My baby girl is racing toward her freshman year. My boys start middle school, officially leaving me stupified by the passing of years.

Elliott is crawling, pulling up on everything that might put his life at risk, and discovering the joy of chewing his food.

Klee and I are pushing through the chaos.  Looking for our way in it all; skinning our knees quite a bit.  Wondering... if these are the dog days, what's next?

My boys and me, in the dirt.

Sleeping in My Bed Tonight

I just spent eight hours in a hot car with my three kids and a bunch of stuff.  

We made the journey back home today, after our two week friend/family-a-thon.  I would have driven the I-5 but was worried about Thelma making it over the Grapevine in the heat.  (We've decided to name the beater Thelma - kinda makes her special that way.)  For those of you who don't know, the Grapevine is a long stretch of the 5 freeway which goes up and over mountains to take you from L.A. to about 200 miles of desolation.  


Anyway, to avoid the possibility of a pregnant lady and three kids madly escaping a wagon inferno amidst endless fields of kindling, I opted to drive home via the 101 (always makes me hum,  "Ventura Highway, in the Summer time..").  I love driving the 101.  It's lined with all of my favorites: beaches, farms, quaint towns, vineyards...   Good for the soul.  Even the kids seemed soothed by it.


It shouldn't have taken eight hours to make the trip but Mama had to take lots of "potty breaks" (Grrrr), which inevitably resulted in Thelma-refueling, gum-buying, and seat-renegotiating.  Throw in traffic and collection of the dogs and a six hour trip was successfully extended to eight.


Still, my kids were fantastic.  I didn't have one frazzled-mom moment.  A notably amazing feat.


In truth, I was dreading today.  Not because of the drive, I actually love road trips; but because it means I have to go back to facing life... alone.  I know I'm not entirely alone, but somewhere over the years I drew into myself and abandoned that social butterfly I once was.  I'm sure there are great explanations for this, and I'm certain that my therapists are hard at work solving it for me.  In the mean time, I'm back home, alone, after two weeks of soaking in the love and support of time-tested friends and family.

***Long Sigh***

So, here I am.  These first few hours haven't been bad.  In fact, I was surprised by how good it felt to drive down the familiar streets of Pleasanton.  And stepping into our sweet little home was... nice.  The kids helped unload the car then bolted off to reconnect with the neighborhood gang.  I didn't mind.  They needed to run and yell a bit.  I opened the windows to let the cool breeze in, plugged in the chinese lanterns in the garden, loved on the pups, and did the preliminary sorting of the stuff.  Feels good to be here.  It's mine.  Ours.  Home.

A few visions from my Mom's garden...

If all dentist's chairs were in gardens I might have fewer cavities.

Saturday's Snippets (A Continuation of the Friend/Family-a-thon)

The Motion of Laughter.

The Warming of Hearts... and Toes.

And Marshmallows...

Papa Bear

Hello my blog friends.  I wanted to peek in and let you know that I am not neglecting you.  I am just on a friend/family-a-thon.  A bit of a pilgrimage to my homeland (Ventura County) as well.  

I would love for you to meet a VERY special man in my life...

This is my Grandfather, Herbert Wiles.

I was nervous seeing "Papa-bear".  We haven't spoken since my life has taken it's dramatic turn.  He is a patriarch of my conservative heritage, so, though I know him to be loving, I worried that I would only see disappointment in his eyes.  Not so.  He came right up to me, wrapped his arms around me tight and told me how much he loves me. 

Father figures have been blurry in my world.  They have not been a big source of warmth or acceptance.  His hug was such a contrast to that. Such good medicine.  

Thank you, Grandpa.

I wish we had more time.

More Tid Bits of Possibly Useless Information

On Sunday I decided to take myself out on the town.  I drove up to Walnut Creek which is only about 25 minutes away but an entirely different atmosphere.


 **When we first moved to the Bay area we lived in Poet's Corner on the boarder of Pleasant Hill and Walnut Creek.  I loved it.  After the first year, I reluctantly agreed to move to a newer townhome in Dublin.  It was nice to live in a more efficient home, but I really miss living among the trees and culture of Walnut Creek.**


Anyway, the town was buzzing, as I expected on a sunny weekend.  Parking was scarce so I had to park on the roof of a parking structure.  I appreciate that WC still offers free parking structures - a rarity these days.  I really didn't mind parking up there because I've been needing exercise.  I'm proud to say I used the stairs both down and back up!  The wheezing and moaning didn't seem to attract too much attention.

I was excited to browse one of my favorite chain stores, Urban Outfitters.  UO and Anthropologie are sister stores which is obvious by their merchandising.  They have done a fabulous job of creating a genre all their own.  I like to linger in both shops just to soak up the atmosphere, although I like the music and scents in Anthropologie a tad more.  


UO is the more economical/youthful of the two.  I like to dig through their sale racks for treasures.  On this visit, I went specifically to check out their home decor.  I love their quilts.  The prices are reasonable, but still too much for me, so I have to wait for clearance.  Of course, I LOVE the duvet covers at Anthropolgie, but they are WAY out of my budget right now, so not even looking...

I did make one awesome purchase.  I found a fun top!  This pregnancy, my wardrobe has required a lot of 'out of the box' thinking.  I have managed to spend a grand total of $13 on maternity clothes thus far (thanks to generous friends, freecycle, and garage sales).  BUT, it felt really good to buy something NEW.  UO is great for maternity finds since they offer a variety of longer-than-average tops and tunics.  And with style! 

I attempted to take a self portrait to show the "belly fit" of my new top, but had trouble capturing it (arm not long enough for obtuse belly).  Of course, I didn't think of taking the pic till after I had washed my face for bed, so... it is what it is.


While still feeling proud of myself for the stair climbing, I chose to go with the healthy thing and make a nutritious dinner of potatoes, pea shoots, green beans and watermelon.  Yes, pea shoots.  I've never cooked with them before but my sister-in-law gave me a big bag of them so I gave it a shot.  Stir-fried them with a bit of salt and YUM!  Outside of the tough to chew element, they have earned a place in my vegetable heart.


So, I washed the dishes, watched an uninspiring TV movie, and made a desperate attempt to ignore the siren call of the salted caramel ice cream in the freezer (with oreo cookie).  FUTILITY, I tell you!!  BUT, I did make it a smaller portion than usual.  I get points for that, right??  


Oh well, it's a new day, new opportunity to resist one of the few sources of joy in my life temptation.

OH!  Before I sign off, I'd love your input.  I'm considering a hair cut.  As I've mentioned, this pregnancy (and possibly a few cheap bottles of hair dye) has done a number on the health of my locks.  They are VERY dry and need a trim.  I haven't wanted to cut my hair, but am thinking I might have to.  SO, I found this pic of a possible style.  I know I'm no Sandra Bullock, but use your imagination.  What do you think?  I'd love any suggestions you have.  Need to take action soon.


Ok, so that's a little bit of nothing for ya.  Have a great day.  Peace Out!

Over the River and Through the Woods...

I spent this last weekend visiting my sweet pregnant friend, Cara. Since I won't be able to attend her baby shower, I decided I needed to make the pilgrimage on a separate weekend before baby arrives. I'm so glad I did.

First off, let me say that I couldn't get enough of pregnant Cara! She's almost at the end of her journey and is more than ready for it to be over. She feels puffy and sore. Her legs and feet are so swollen that she can't fit many of her shoes. Her belly is round and perpetually shifting as baby girl let's us know she's feeling a bit cramped in there. So, Cara may not be able to see it, but she's SO beautiful right at this moment. I assured her that she will be glad to have all these preggy pictures which I and others have taken of her, but she's not completely convinced of that yet.

On Saturday we drove from Minden to Reno so we could play at a pottery painting studio. It was in a cute little plaza so we waddled through some of the local shops first. Of course, it didn't take much to lure us into the local bakery as well. It was so good for me to sit across the table from one of my soul sisters. I felt that rare sense of safety in knowing she would handle my openness with great care.

When we finally made it through the doors of the pottery studio, we were already tired, so the racks of blank pottery canvasses overwhelmed us. I think we spent half of the time just trying to decide on which piece to paint, and then HOW to paint it! Cara was a little over-ambitious and became quite fatigued by the tediousness of the dotting.

I'm pretty sure I put too many coats on mine and it will all crack and burn off when they go to fire it. I don't really care much, though. It was all good therapy for me.

The sun was setting as we headed home and it was perfect.

On Sunday we lazed around a bit with the felines (Lola and Othello), and then headed to a Minden local breakfast joint. Breakfast is, by far, my favorite meal to eat out. There's nothing like a good coma-inducing Waffle, or French Toast, or Pancakes with that huge ball of butter melting on top. I always struggle with my order. I spend a lot of time trying to beat the system in my attempt to perfectly blend an omelette with a sweet counterpart. Ideally that would be french toast but, usually the best I can get is a pancake.

After breakfast I loaded the van and started my drive home. I drove up in the dark so I was looking forward to the scenery on the way back. Minden is nestled in a valley of farms and scattered trees, all surrounded by snow-peaked mountains. Truly serene and somewhat timeless.

I drove up through the mountains.

I wish I could have captured more of what I saw. The trees were an unbelievable blend of colors. Dense evergreens were interrupted by brilliant yellow, orange and red leaves.

In some sunlit clusters, they glowed as if on fire.

I couldn't just pass through Tahoe without stopping to say hello to the lake. It was crisp but sunny and the water was three shades of blue.

I think I took about 50 photos along my drive down the mountain. Would have been more if I had more time.

Again, good therapy.

Day Trip

Wednesday was doctor day again. About every six weeks I make the pilgrimage to Chico to meet with my Lyme doctors and evaluate the progress of my treatment.

I tend to drag my feet leading up to D-day, knowing that it will be long and exhausting. It's a three hour drive both ways. But, I like road trips. Always have. Provides an excuse to do nothing

but sit and watch the world go by. So I forced myself out the door and, after a necessary stop by Starbucks for a Venti-sized cup of motivation, I was off.

I listened to loud music on this trip. Had to change stations three times along the way in order to keep the groove going. There was a lot of angry chick music, which I found exhilarating. Even sang along. This is note-worthy because, over the past several years, I have not tolerated the sound of music well. Not just music, ANY noise. I find all of it agitating. It is just one of my many 'Princess and the Pea' idiosyncrasies courtesy of Lyme disease. So my recent ability to find pleasure in rocking out to Pink is a welcome milestone in my treatment.

On my first visit to Chico I discovered the best grilled veggie sandwich EVER at a Bakery called The Upper Crust. It was very upsetting when I stopped by the bakery on my last trip only to find that the grill was closed. Ended up eating a substandard replacement and vowed never to make that mistake again. So, on this trip, I made plans to leave early enough to allow plenty of sandwich time.

The problem with high expectations, of course, is the potential for not meeting them. The bakery was as I remembered it. Glass case full of delectables and a long line of locals. When the sandwich arrived, it was

beautiful, but, at first bite, my heart sank. Disappointment. It wasn't BAD, just not the best EVER like it was before. The bread still melted in my mouth but the peppers were too crunchy. I didn't even finish it.

Maybe certain pleasures are only meant to be experienced once. Sealed in the memory with all of the other spontaneous moments that we treasure and ponder now and again. Not sure if I'll return to The Upper Crust on my next visit. Guess I have six weeks to think about it.

With a bit of extra time on my hands, I decided to tool around downtown Chico. Being a university town, it's littered with trendy vintage shops and used bookstores.

Dreadlocks and bohemian apparel are definitely the mainstream. I love it. Although, I have to smirk at the notion that they actually seem to think they are rebelling against fashion. They ARE the fashion in Chico. They set the standard and all the new-comers clamor to fall in line.

But let's not get distracted by my tangents. The purpose for my day trip was to see the doctor. It's an appointment that could probably be done over the phone but they feel it is important that I sit in their depressing waiting room with all the other damaged mortals and then be transported to a quiet, sterile, cave to be left alone with my thoughts.

It's always unnerving when the silence is broken by the chatting hallway nurses, laughing about their recent outings or exchanging salon information. I usually try to keep myself occupied by reading a magazine or playing Scramble on my phone. This time I thought I would play with i-photography. I titled this pic of myself, "Reflections in A Doctor's Office."

The appointment was typical. Went over my improvements and current complaints. The night sweats have stopped, the sound sensitivity seems to be lessening, and I am much less aware of my foot pain. Doctor was encouraged and decided to add a new med to my list. This one is a hard-hitter and will probably knock me on my ass for a while but I only have to take it for 30 days. Doctor was a little concerned about the new growth pattern of my fingernails. They are turning up, away from the nail bed. He also thought my skin looked a little off. So, I'll be donating more blood this week just to make sure my thyroid is in check, etc.

With new scripts in hand, I was done and ready for the journey home. I had a pounding headache and was keenly aware that my Venti motivator from the morning had not done an adequate job, so I really felt a carmel frappuccino was necessary. Along with several Advil.

I took it slow on my drive home. I loved all the trees, farms, orchards, and hand-written signs advertising produce and flowers for sale.

On my way in, I had passed a cemetery along the 99. I didn't want to miss it on my way out. It wasn't a sad place. It was peaceful. It touched me. I don't want to be buried when I die, but there is something very comforting about a cemetery for those left behind. It's a place to visit. To feel like somehow you can still connect with that person that used to fill a tangible space in your life.

It was a long, exhausting, GOOD day...

Just for me.