precipitating events

Love, pretty things, soulfood

Trying to stay present. Soak in all of the glorious sensations of new love. Let go of my instinct to recoil when a man sings my praises. Silence the voices in my head ringing the warning bells of, that’s what they all say.

Somewhere deep down I’m confused as to why the beginnings are filled with eloquent soliloquies about how I’m an angel and so much of everything that they’ve ever wanted. The ends come riddled with stone cold projections about things that I have never been. We both know the truth, and it’s not their version of the story most of the time. But, I let go these days. Remember.

Today, the place that I live now.

Today, I dig claws into my reservoir of optimism, syphoned and over tapped some time ago. Just a woman naked under the full moon of lust. Dancing for heavy rains of abundant care. Prayers that this time, he really means it.

Tempering my heart with intentional inner dialogue: even if it doesn’t work out, I will be a better person for loving.

Just here, now, balanced on the edge of fear, attempting to translate this visceral feeling that somewhere between our mutual words of adulation is an incredibly viable promise of lasting love, and still, me, searching for words.

Living in incredible awe of you, of me, and the phenomenon of falling in love. Kissing good night my attempts to rationalize magic. I am so sorry for doing that to you.


silly rabbit

Love, pretty things, silly goose, soulfood, therapy

Ya’ll know I’ve been kissing frogs, for a while. I’ve officially been single for a year. Let me do some finger counting like a 1st grader realllll quick…. I’ve been on dates with TWELVE different men in a year. Of those seven made it to second dates. (That’s actually way more than I thought, now that I review the facts). Surprisingly decent odds, but I’m also just a really nice person who likes to give people ample opportunity to let their pretty little personalities shine. For only three of the seven was there any real potential for a meaningful relationship. One out of twelve made it to official boyfriend territory that quickly corroded into a land mine of manipulation, deception, and horrors, but who’s counting.

And then there was lucky number twelve. 

Twelve is an auspicious number meaning that this dude if wholesome as fuck. Someone that I look at and think, now here’s a man who stands up to the grandpa test. 

So, what’s the grandpa test?
My Papa who is absolutely the love of my life. The corner stone of positive male influence for me. The man, who when it comes down to it, I’ve been desperately trying to find. (Uhhh huh, that’s how attachment to our opposite sexed caregivers work, if you’re lucky, you try to recreate healthy relationships in your life and not toxic or disregarding ones… been there too.) I’ve been working on my daddy issues like it’s my job for years, ’cause it is.

This past summer I had the absolute blessing to spend a few days with my Papa. Time crawled by, I savored every moment of it. One summer Kansas evening, we were sitting in lawn chairs on his back porch, and my Pops was telling me about how he had made a number of loans to people who blatantly did not pay him back based on their agreement. My grandpa is savvy, it’s not that he didn’t understand that there was risk in loaning friends money, it was that he couldn’t fucking believe that people were systematically so God-damned shitty these days. Long held acquaintances. Family friends. People from his tiny close-knit community. Ohhhh you gonna do me like that. (That’s what my grandpa sounds like in my head, not reality).

He just explained it all really sadly. Like right in front of his eyes as the decades ticked by he watched as morality completely eroded. Disbelief. But, still he shows up to the next person ringing his doorbell in a terrible bind, with the benefit of the doubt. Still helping people. Still hoping that there will be a few more someones that behave honorably.
That conversation has been a lump in my throat ever sense.

Maybe that’s the word, the sentiment, the everything: honorable.
For a year I have been searching high and low for an honorable man and I didn’t even know it until it was just right there staring me back in the eyes.

I’m learning and learning and learning to listen to my intuition. To stay tuned into my senses. To be careful about getting ahead of myself, be careful about having too many drinks, being careful about over sharing, over promising, over fantasizing about how wonderful it all could be. Learning because the reverse of all of those things is like playing with matches in a kerosene bathtub. And I’ve taken many a self-induced fire bomb bath over the years.

Number twelve, who I shall now rename to number one, because it’s a new year, and a new even more intentional and present me, truly seems like a really good person.

My mantra/prayer/manifesting process before meeting him had gotten super clear:
I just want to find someone who is good to me, consistently.

That’s all. Time will tell. But you know, I’m me, and he’s probably the one.

2014, a reflection

Love, soulfood

Heyyyy it’s me on the bandwagon wanna hop on? This actually isn’t premeditated, so we’ll see what happens.

December 31st, 2013:

Laying in bed, skinny and weak under a pile of blankets absolutely devastated. Balling, for multiple days in a row. Unable to eat, think rationally, leave the house or be a functioning human being. I was the victim of a terrible crime striking unsuspecting people everywhere……. A BREAK UP! 

It’s all really silly in hindsight. It always is, isn’t it?

The facts of the case are:

The perp: A super douche, delusionally living a double cyber life while conducting himself like a royal asshole in the real world.

Charges: Fuckin’ up a good thing.

Conviction: I got a life sentence of being surrounded by better people. And plenty of time to reflect on how to avoid another mistake like him again.

December 31st, 2014:

I laid in the same bed spooned between my handsome (current) boyfriend and our beautiful, slightly smelly doggy. J made a delicious dinner, we had margaritas and wine. A rave for 3 sans drugs. Dance party to boot. A cut throat game of slap jack and many many laughs.

The only thing that those two nights a year apart have in common is this one thought,

“What did I do to deserve this?”.

All of that is to say that life, my life in particular, works in mysterious ways. If it hadn’t have been for that stupid break up and my subsequent internet rant the love of my life wouldn’t have every sent me a consoling email that launched a thousand ships. It’s impossible to know what my life would be today without him. I’d rather not think about it.

2014 was a year of huge changes. Really tough decisions. Closely evaluating who I was willing to let participate in my future. Cutting ties. Moving on. Trudging forward.

I’ve got places to get be.


For all of my adult life I have only kept two new years resolutions. One of them I’m re-making for this year. Flossing my teeth erry damn day. You should do it too, your dentist will thank you.

Aside for a real doable resolution what I’m really into is setting intentions. There’s about a million hippy dippy articles out there right now about the difference between resolutions and intentions, google it if your ‘afused.

Here’s my list of intentions in no particular order: 

Purging. Emotionally. Physically. Except for after meals.
Using as little plastic as possible.
Avoiding GMO foods and pesticides like it’s my job.
Spending as much time as I did last year with my baby boo.
Catering less to my incredibly entitled and sassy six year old.
Fortifying my relationships.
Dancing, always.
Making some serious career decisions.
Putting in another lap on the collegiate track.
Exploring my spirituality.
Writing, everyday. Or as close to everyday as possible.
Being creative and expressive.
Cleaning less, yes you heard me.
Being supportive and challenging to those I love.
Yogaing more.
Finding my community.
Explore. Visit the mountains more.
Mostly, never loosing sight of the fact that our time here on this earth is short. Seize the day. That couldn’t feel any less cliche at this particular moment. Don’t forget to live.

Happy New Year my darlings.