511Amber

But “fate loves the fearless,” right?

I had to believe that leaving a relationship of nearly six years that wasn’t going anywhere, leaving the house that made me wheezy and sick and leaving the job that made me miserable all needed to happen.

So i jumped ship on all of it, all the miserable stuff that wasn’t working. I wasn’t sure if I landed on my ass or my feet, but it felt good to do things my way. Was good to listen to where my compass told me to go.

I cannot recommend anything more than following what your gut tells you to do. I’m delighted with the road I’m on now—new great place downtown with fabulous neighbors, new guy I’m seeing, great new job with more challenge and more money… I’m so glad I was brave. (And terrified for months till it all worked out!)

Your internal compass knows exactly where you need to go to be happy—the trick is learning how to read it.

I finally started yoga when I really needed it:
All at once at the end of last year, I broke up with my bf of 5 years, moved out on my own and left a crappy job.

It was an expensive, challenging time with a lot of change and stress, made worse by being single and ‘broke’ over the holidays.

There were days when I was doing vinyasa yoga twice a day every day, to help chill out, focus, clear my mind and work off all the nervous energy I had built up. It was great to see new muscle definition in my legs, have better balance and core strength, and to have moments where all my nervous internal dialog would be silenced.

It was a rough patch and yoga kept me focused and sane.

I now live in a great condo downtown, have a job that pays better (and works me harder) than any job I’ve had yet and have met a new guy.

I’m still doing yoga 3x week or more to keep me level!

In 2008, work got in the way, but I’ve got a lot of time in the new year, so maybe for just a few months… :D

Am delighted to host as well, I live right downtown in the state capital. Fun!

Am looking to head to Montreal and Chicago. :D

Aside from writing the occasional letter to the editor and putting up yard signs, I didn’t know how I was going to work this one into an already busy schedule six months ago.

But everything changed in July… My resume made the rounds, I left my lukewarm old job and now I’m on the communication staff for the governor’s re-election campaign. It’s a campaign trail sprint until November’s election, with long hours, brilliant co-workers and the best bosses anyone could have.

BTW: If you are looking to get involved as a volunteer, letters to the editor, walking your neighborhood with the candidate to talk to voters and yard signs are great ways to start. There are campaign folks that will help you every step of the way, and it really makes you feel like you’ve made a difference in your community. Also a great way to meet new pals.

I’ve almost completed my working holiday visa application—I need to renew my driver’s licence (a year early) this week to complete it and start processing the content.

Next step will be in establishing a budget for projected expenses in the next 6 months before I go, projected income on job 1, and determine how much I can save before I leave. Knowing full well that it won’t be much, I’m also looking into 2 additional jobs between now and December 31, 2006. Seasonal stuff—prolly retail. Maybe as a server… ungh.

I’ve been reviewing the opportunities for work, so now I’m developing a list of people I’m interested in working for, and where they are located in the country. Ideally, I’ll be able to move from north to south, and back up to fly home.

My brother and I took a road trip to Hell, MI right after I graduated from high school, so it was fun to return last night.

After hearing that radio stations in California were giving away trips to Hell, we knew we had to go.

We arrived in Hell before it got dark, so there was plenty still going on. The weather was warm, I’d bet there were a couple thousand that gathered there throughout the day. Everyone was in black and it was packed with leather, bikers, tattoos, horns, 666s, devil costumes, wild hair, goth kids, fetishists, hearses and peculiar cars. Ice cream cones (in Hell) were .66 cents, and we even picked up a deed to our own square inch of Hell for (you guessed it) $6.66. Lots of lines to wait in too—it was definitely Hell.

It was excellent people watching. Lots of posturing from the younger folks trying to sort life out, lots of yelling, drinking, partying. Bikers were cool, plenty of bleach-to-pavement burnouts for motorheads, some of the good ol’ boys got into fights, bottles were thrown, beer was slung…

As the four of us left, a guy pulled up and asked me if I wanted to go home with a sixer (him) instead of a zero (referring to my brother.) So wrong on so many levels. We laughed all the way home.

My grandmother died early this week-a beautiful little spitfire redhead that was my surrogate mother, fostered my interest in plants that led me to become a Master Gardener, spoke of her travels that grew my own wanderlust, spoke el Paso Spanish to me when I was a bebe-that led me to become fluent in espanol, contributed to my love of rouge tresses that compelled me to become a pelirojita—a May baby like me, she was 88.

Anyway, Mom and I are sulking in the sweltering kitchen, chopping and cooking for catharsis. Mom’s new hubby, the Cali Aunt & Uncle and bf Alex are sitting around sharing wine and light stories when Alex casually mentions a speech he needs to give. It’s a monologue/monodrama, he is considering reading the lyrics to Sympathy for the Devil, by the Rolling Stones. We unanimously agree that it’s a great idea and then suddenly, that very song is on the radio.

It was unbelieveable.

Actually, it was extraordinary-which is why I’m writing about it here. Sure that it was a sign, we found ourselves spontaneously singing along and then, up laughing and dancing in the kitchen, adding in the “woo woo” in the background, doing the Mick Jagger strut and kissy face-all of us kicking off the shackles of our sadness in a dionysian tribute to being alive.

You must understand, I hadn’t cooked with my mom in years, let alone shook my butt while yelling “please allow me to in-tro-duce my-self, I’m a man of wealth and taaaste…” with her. We’re usually pretty reserved group. It was so hot that day, with polenta frying on the stove and roma tomatoes roasting in the oven, 90 degrees—it was like the Devil came in and danced with us himself.

It was great.

Better than great… like I said: extraordinary.

I’ll miss my grandmother viciously, but that was a moment with my family I never would have had without her passing. I’ll forever think of her when I hear that song now, and knowing how feisty she was, if she isn’t in heaven, all I can say is that I’ve got Sympathy for the Devil.

I was up at 4am talking and drinking wine with my Uncle Steve, (a sharp man of adventure that lives in sunny San Fran and spent the 90s on a sailboat puttering around Mexico living on the dot.com dole) after my grandmother passed away this week, and one of the many things he advised was that I learn tennis.

I’m a 6’ woman, so he felt I’d be well built for it. Lift and wingspan, I guess. “Sport of Kings!” he added; it was tennis that introduced him to my aunt when they were both freshly-minted engineers in Metro Detroit. From peculiar scoring to a bit of a twist of the wrist with the backhand to get more control in your return—he broke the whole game down. Clearly, talking about anything with US is fun.

Serendipitously, when I popped in to visit my dad the naxt morning, he chucked a pair of rackets out of his packed-to-the-rafters, used-solely-for-storage garage, asking if I’d use them.

So I was heavy-hearted last night when I crept onto a court with the bf and had at it-tennis is not a difficult or costly game-I picked it up right away and loved it. It was good to shake off the sullen cobwebs that had collected on my heart at the funeral. Great exercise, good hustle, you are alone but not really… I definitely see this becoming a habit, and look forward to really developing some tennis skills.

Here’s to trying new things that perk you up when you are sad, and to getting great advice unexpectedly.

When I was young (early 80s,) my grandfather owned movie theaters and a drive-in as well. Its long gone now, as is my grandfather, but I have great memories of them both.

I used to sit in the ticket booth with my grandmother and help sell tickets if she took a shift, watch the films get loaded into the projecter (projector?) and I loved spreading my Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag out in the back of the family’s station wagon for a night of “ET” or some other flick.

I had the exquisite luck to be the owner’s granddaughter, which allowed me the run of the candy counter. (Little kid, big counter, think Willie Wonka.) My grandfather was a WWII pilot who walked with a shuffle after being shot down over the Mediterranean sea (and a handsome ladies man right up until the end) and was especially indulgent with me and my requests.

Visit to a Drive-In: totally worth doing.

Long story short: Driving home two weeks ago, saw a dead duck that was hit by a car. Sad. Thought I saw something in the ditch a bit further down the road. I did: it was her 4 baby ducks. Picture 511Amber still in heels & work suit trying to convince 4 ducks to climb into a printer box…

I know, let the wild be in the wild… I thought about leaving them there, but they were peping so loud, and every time a car drove by they’d scatter and peep for their mom. It was too much for me to ignore. (Perhaps, if they were baby wolverines, snapping turtles or tasmanian devils I could have left them roadside, but fluffy ducks?)

So this last two weeks I’ve been feeding and warming a quartet of webfooted peeping duck babies, calling everyone in the phone book to take them off my hands. I thought it would be a lot easier to place them, honestly. After numerous calls and emails around the state, I’ve finally found a wildlife rahabilitator about 40 minutes away that will take them. Whew!

I’ll be sure to post photos of these guys too—they are fantastic. (Add ravenous, crazy, adorable.)

Yeah, this flopped. Too many 43 things irons in the fire at the same time to make these happen by 5/11. Aughta do them this weekend…

So fun!!

Man, that was stressful-had to stay late at work, so I had only half the time to complete her bouquet and get ready-but we pulled it off. We got to the the courthouse in time to give the bride & groom their flowers and get lots of photos.

Then we raced ahead to the restaurant and set up the cake, the candles, rose petals everywhere, vases of flowers and the champagne (2 bottles on ice) for the toast.

Coincidentally, it was also Ale’s birthday, so we had a lot to celebrate. She got very sniffly and thanked us all, saying that we were her family while she was so far from home, and that she hoped to repay our kindness one day… she was so sweet and sincere… seeing her so happy made all the stress totally worth it!

Dinner was at a great restaurant right by the capital building, and the food was excellent. (I had salmon with sweet potatoes and asparagus, with butternut squash soup and tempura portabellas to start. Yum.) The cake was as tasty as it was beautiful. Everyone feasted and laughed and shared food and had a great time. It was so fun.

So, I consider this a definite success. Wish all my 43 things were this concrete! Thanks for your well-wishes. I’ll post photos up as soon as they are downloaded.

Wow this week went fast…
!!!

Not a lot of time to spare. I’m ‘borrowing’ the digital camera at work this morning, dinner reservations are set, we picked up the cake last night at (yawn) 1 am amid a torrential downpour (it did slow up to an annoying drip for the handoff, then started pouring again moments later… a sign?)

Still have a set of pink roses to pick up, I’ll spend the afternoon wrapping up bouquet, boutonierre, cake & table flowers.

Ha, guess I aught to try to get some actual billable work done in there too… ;D

as extraordinary, but I think it’s pretty cool: I just received a cryptex for being one of the finalists in Google’s DaVinci Code quest!

It came in the post yesterday, weighs a lot, and had a scroll locked inside with a URL to proceed. The first 10,000 participants to complete all the puzzles and respond received one.

And the cheese factory (me) has experienced high demand for product with no increase in production. Je suis strapped. Merde.

So, I’m bored with being an ad exec, not ready to settle down and marry/birth/buy a house and most of all, am tired of having hater-envy for everyone that studies/travels/lives abroad.

I just turned 28, the time is right to have an adventure.

My new plan is to save like mad, tie up all my loose ends and leave for New Zealand in January of 07. It’ll be mid-summer, we’ll stay until late harvest. I’ll start applying for my working holiday visa now, update the passport, get vaccines and begin making my exit for a 4-6 month working hiatus on the other side of the world.

I plan to work on organic farms in exchange for room and board via WWOOF-NZ. Tending sheep, horses, helping in the gardens, in the vineyards, making meals, weeding, building… I can utilize my Master Gardener certification, love sheep and chooks, enjoy viticulture and horticulture, have supported and studied organic sustainability for the last few years, it’s a good fit.

My only real concern is being gone while Dad is in such poor health—his cancer keeps getting worse. Being so close to my Dad, it would devastate me to be on the other side of the world if he took a turn for the worst and I wasn’t able to be there right away…

Didn’t hug the quads, as it was a rainy day and they were antsy with their mum… Instead I found a big ol’ boy sheep hanging out by the fence that had been shorn the day before, and gave him a two-arm hug around his neck.

I think it made him nervous.

So uh, sheep: not like dogs.

Aren’t as touchy-feely as I thought “Clouds With Legs” would be… I suppose it’s logical that farm animals recently shorn might not be so down for a snuggle…

Still, worth doing, glad I did it. I look forward to hugging lambs in the near future. :D

Clearly I haven’t compelled you enough.

Comeon… Tell me! I know you want to tell me about yourself. And your good taste. It’s one of your favorite things to talk about. Remember? ;)

Also, tomorrow is my birthday. It would make my day if you told me your DI5. Think about it: somewhere out there, you’d be making a willowy redhead delighted, simply by typing a few words.

Consider the karmic implications of that for a moment.
Dispensing delight—how can you say no?

Let that marinate, then tell me your DI5.

Wait, what’s that? You think you’ll tell me your DI5, then ask someone else to tell me their DI5 too? That way, you can read theirs…

Genius! You’re so clever.

(So tell me already, you little sharpie, you.)