Is This What A Mid-Life Crisis Looks Like?

October 30, 2012 By 7 Comments

That’s obviously what this is… what this crazy life is that I seem to be leading right now looks like.

It HAS to be a mid-life crisis.

There’s really no explanation for the fact that I’m doing crazy things that I SWORE I would never do.

Like planning to run a half marathon in February. Obviously I’ve lost my mind.

Like thinking I’m going to be writing a book over the course of the month of November.

See also: Lost my mind.

How about going back to work?

Or winning/buying a pair of (really uppity) cowboy boots that I’m going to go to my grave pretending that Ree chose me (and Lindsay and Stephanie) because we were the most awesome people on Earth…

See also, again: Lost my mind.

But aren’t they FABULOUS? (get ready because I’m giving some boots away soooooon.)

I’m assuming, and this is PURE ASSUMPTION, that along with a mid-life crisis comes brain farts, the inability to string words into sentences, night sweats, moodiness, and the desire to eat chocolate and buy a new car.

So is this what it looks like, this thing called a mid-life crisis?

Because if so, I’m totally gonna use that excuse to eat chocolate and buy a new car.

Anybody else feeling like this at 36? I know I’m not alone.

*****UPDATE: I quit. I quit NaNoWriMo. I realized it sounded like a wonderful idea but I just don’t have time for it. I’d like to make it to 37 without any more gray hairs than I have already so I’m letting it go. I’m going to try to write something, anything, every day to keep my brain sharp, though!

Filed Under: Running, Thoughts Tagged With: , , , ,

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: NonWriting at NonCon

October 14, 2012 By 11 Comments

I’m at Callaway Gardens right now at the Aiming Low Non-Con. If you don’t know about it, well, you probably won’t like it should. I really want to keep this conference a secret so it stays this small and intimate forever and ever. I also want them to have it multiple times a year. But enough about that for now…

Since I’m busy sleeping thinking about writing and all the amazing things I want to do, we’re going to have promptless, free writing today.

So set those timers for five minutes and pour it out of your head!

Time starts NOW!

stream of consciousness sunday

The love that fills my heart right now is making it want to burst. I’ve been blessed with so many friendships.

There are friends that have been around since I was an infant and friends who are just coming into my life. They’re all equally as important to me.

I’m reminded at this conference that even though time and space separates so many of us, our words connect us. They connect us in ways that often, our local friends don’t even understand.

There are women I want to just grab and hug and tell them that everything’s going to be alright. And there are people I want to sit for hours and talk about how we feel about our writing and lots in life. There are women I didn’t know, but who are now, I find, sisters of mine in the world of baby loss.

We’re all joined in ways, no matter our race, religion, political preference, or whatever, that evoke emotions I wish I could put into words.

But alas, this writer is out of words. They’re in my head and in my heart, waiting to be poured out onto the internet.

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

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post (in the sidebar). .
  • Link up your post below.
  • Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

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Own The Room

August 20, 2012 By 9 Comments

A week or so before BlogHer, I sat in the tiny room of my energy healer with so much pent-up toxic energy I could have powered a steamship with it. She asked a simple question and I started talking. And I don’t think I stopped for 15 minutes.

When I was done and finally (quite literally) exhaled, she simply looked at me and said, “Wow. There are going to be tears today, aren’t there?”

Life had been piling up on me in ways I can’t even explain. Nothing was bad but nothing was great. There was just a lot of excess stuff sitting on my heart and soul, weighing me down from the inside out.

I casually mentioned that I was going to BlogHer and the circumstances surrounding my decision to go. That was that.

After she did her magic (y’all, I swear this is better than an IV of chocolate during a marathon of Kate and Allie) we did our usual chatting. In the way that only Amy can do, she looked at me and told me to breathe. There was talk of a “major shift” and “boundaries” and all that other stuff I knew she would say when I went in.

What I wasn’t expecting her to say was this: “Even though you don’t get to read at the keynote, walk in there and own the room. Go buy a new dress and own the damn room.”

Well, hmm. Easier said than done with 5000 people in one place. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t FEEL like I owned the room, right?

My friend Michele just happened to be coming to Atlanta for an appointment and I roped her into going shopping with me. She made me try on a dozen things — most of which I NEVER would have tried on myself.

We found the dress. It was comfortable, cool, ME and red. No matter how many extra pounds I have on right now, this dress made me feel amazing. Maybe Bill Blass was right when he said “When in doubt, wear red.”

I knew I wouldn’t be reading. But I knew in my heart that being on that giant screen with the names of people I admire and long to write like was still a big deal. Crystal and I grabbed a place at the front with a great view of the speakers. Each of the readers did a wonderful job. There’s really something amazing about being able to hear a post read out loud, in the dialect, accent, and with the emphasis of the author. To be honest, I don’t know if I COULD have read in front of that many people if I HAD been chosen, so you know… yay for that!

After the Voices of the Year keynote and reception, Listen To Your Mother held an Open Mic Salon. Crystal and I were excited about the chance to throw our names and posts in the hat (bowl) to read but really didn’t figure we’d be able to.

I had chosen earlier in the week, Teach a Man To Fish to read if I got the chance. But at the 11th hour, just in case, I decided I really wanted to read my VOTY post. It was why I was even AT BlogHer, so it seemed fitting.

Damn if they didn’t draw my name to read second.

After I almost threw up and after I really wished I had a bottle of vodka handy, I stood up in front of a few hundred bloggers, writers, friends, and read my post.

For 5 minutes, I owned the room.

listen to your mother open mic night

I wore red, and I owned the room.

It was a rush I’ve never experienced. I felt the oxygen leave the room when a few hundred people collectively gasped when I read the words, “In 2003, our son died.” The hairs on my arms stood up when they clapped. And when people told me how lovely it was after, the tears fell.

My voice was heard.

And it felt good.

Lesson learned: When in doubt, DEFINITELY wear red!

Thank you Julia for taking this picture for me.
The haziness captured exactly how it felt in that room.
To read the other posts that were read at the LTYM Open Mic, see here.
Filed Under: Memories, Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , ,

It’s Camp Week!

July 9, 2012 By 10 Comments

We rounded the final corner on the curvy road to camp. The sign appeared in front of the car and we wheeled right on into the driveway.

The sign said Camp Winnataska Est. 1918. 

Henry declared that the camp was OLD! I said that means it has character.

We were greeted by counselors with welcome signs. I got a little nostalgic about cheerleading markers and sign-making afternoons in high school. They were cheering at the kids coming in, asking if they were excited, telling them it’s going to be a FANTASTIC week!

I wanted to stay, right then and there!

There was a line to drop off luggage and get parked. We stopped to wait patiently.

Henry declared, “Ok, well, later suckers!” and tried to get out of the car. 

I remembered that excitement.

We parked and stood in line. My friend Dawn’s son Grant is at camp there, too. The boys have known each other for several years and were excited to go together!

Since the camp’s in Alabama and one of the staff members is a sorority sister from Auburn, I figured there would be other people there that I kinda knew. Little did I know, my first suite mate was dropping off HER Henry who would also be a Chico camper!

I haven’t seen Casey and her husband since graduation. It was great to see them!

They let us in a few at a time to head to the Canteen and get their heads checked for critters and to drop off forms. It was hotter than blazes and the sweating wasn’t pretty at all, but the excitement among the boys was just electric!

The Chico campers are the 6-8 year olds. This camp offers a 3 night camp for first timers. Or a week-long camp. We opted for the week — 3 nights is just a tease!

I wanted to stay for 2 weeks! 

We wandered from the Canteen up to Chico Hill to the cabins. There we found the tiniest little cabin with 4 bunk beds and a cot. NINE boys would be in that room. It was hotter than snot but all the moms got the beds made and the gear neatly put away.

I’m sure that lasted for all of seven minutes. 

Being in Alabama, there’s always going to be a mix of football religions allegiances. That’s a given. In line there were Auburn hats and Alabama t-shirts. There were 2 Auburn chairs and 2 Alabama chairs.

I wasn’t quite expecting a little 7 year old to ask, “Can you plug this fan in for me? Hey, are y’all Auburn or Alabama?” just as serious as a heart attack. I simply answered, “Auburn,” and he seemed pleased enough with that. Even though his mama is for Alabama and his cousin went to Alabama. His daddy went to Auburn so he pulls for Tennessee!

The boys were all set. Henry on the top bunk, Grant on the bottom. Fans installed. Sheets tucked in. Sweat oozing from every single pore in all of our bodies.

I wanted to curl up in one of those bunks and write notes back home to my friends.

A quick picture and they pretty much told us to get out of there so they could have fun!

But not without a few last words.

A hug and a kiss and a reminder to wear sunscreen later and we were outta there!

I wanted to stay as a camper! 

But the car was air conditioned and did I mention it was hot as hell? 

Filed Under: Henry Tagged With: , , , ,

Summers To Remember

May 31, 2012 By 3 Comments

We’re seated by a young girl with a brand new Mullet Bay t-shirt on. Just by looking at her fresh pressed shorts and brand new tennis shoes, I know her deal.

The waiter fumbles to remember today’s specials because it’s his first day of work.

The adorable waitress from Japan doesn’t know what a Shirley Temple is, but when I tell her it’s Sprite and cherry juice, she writes it on her little cheat sheet. She won’t forget now.

This is the beginning of a summer to remember for so many people on the Island.

From now on, they’re going to be able to say, “I worked a summer in St. Simons and it was the most fun I’ve ever had!”

I know because I can say that, too.

I’ve been back to St. Simons a zillion times since I nannied here in the summers of 1995 and 1996. I was married here. I’ve vacationed here and yet, for the first time, I’m feeling almost weepy with nostalgia when I think about the boys and girls who are here to work, get paid, enjoy their freedom and most of all, make memories.

Granted, some of those memories will end with massive hangovers and huge regrets, but whatever… it’s summer.

I see them huddled together, nervous and self-conscious, waiting to see which tables they get to serve, rehearsing what to say, but in the back of their mind they’re really wondering whether the guy who’s helping the bartender is interested in them. Will he be the one who asks me to the beach on our day off? Does my hair look ok? It’s not too frizzy is it? 

I know them because I WAS them.

Luckily, my job involved keeping an adorable (now freaking grown) elementary aged girl. (You people don’t want me waiting on your table, I promise.) Haley and I spent our days at the pool, doing arts and crafts and generally goofing off. The second summer I had a friend with me and we ventured out more at night, eventually both finding boyfriends — locals who were bartending for the summer. Of course those weren’t long-lasting romances, but they were fun. We enjoyed ourselves and the memories I have of the things Haley and I did will surely stick with me forever.

And that’s what this new batch of kids will do this summer.

Whether they’re bartending, waiting tables, putting up umbrellas on the beach, nannying or working in a retail shop, the memories will be made. They’ll dance to bands at night, swing on the swings at the King and Prince with their dates, climb the lighthouse, bask in the sun to perfect their “I lived at the ocean” tan, and sleep until noon if they can.

Maybe they will appreciate it while they’re in the moment, but probably not. More than likely it’ll take them a good 15 years before they realize what a wonderful experience they had.

And when they do? They’ll be the one tearing up in the middle of Mullet Bay because they’re flooded with emotions and gratefulness for the summers they spent on the Island.

(What? That wasn’t me tearing up. I’m just saying.)

(Ok, fine. It was me. And I’m proud of it.)

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