yesss!

you know those moments when you can relate to something? to someone? those "ah ha" moments that make you feel like you're not the only weirdo out there?

i experienced that moment today while reading when you are engulfed in flames by david sedaris. this particular passage sank deep in my heart and sent chills down my spine as i totally and completely connected with the type of love he was describing. it was david and his boyfriend, hugh, playing the parts of me and g, respectively. it was craaazy true, albeit remotely disgusting. but this is love.

"...'what do you say we lance that thing?' he said. it's the sort of question that catches you off guard. 

'did you just use the verb to lance?' i asked.

he turned on the light. 'since when did you learn to lance boils?' 

'i didn't,' he said. 'but i bet i could teach myself.'

with anyone else i'd put up a fight, but hugh can do just about anything he sets his mind to. this is a person who welded the plumbing pipes in his house in normandy, then went into the cellar to make his own cheese. there's no one i trust more, and so i limped to the bathroom, that theater of home surgery, where i lowered my pajama bottoms and braced myself against the towel rack, waiting as he sterilized the needle.

'this is hurting me a lot more that it's hurting you,' he said. it was his standard line, but i knew that this time he was right. worse than the boil was the stuff that came out of it, a horrible custard streaked with blood. what got to me, and got to him even worse, was the stench, which was unbearable and unlike anything i had come across before. it was, i thought, what evil must smell like. how could a person continue to live with something so rotten inside of him? and so much of it! the first tablespoon gushed out on its own power, like something from a geyser. then hugh used his fingers and squeezed out the rest. 'how are you doing back there?' i asked, but he was dry-heaving and couldn't answer.

when my boil was empty, he doused it with alcohol and put a bandage on it, as if it had been a mior injury, a shaving cut, a skinned knee, something normal he hadn't milked like a dead cow. and this, to me, was worth at least a hundred of the hundred and twenty nights of Sodom. back in bed i referred to him as Sir Lance-a-Lot...."

i won't get into the details of how i totally understand this story, in an effort to keep this post bearable. but i will say this: thank goodness for the "sir lance-a-lot's" in our lives.

a white affair

last weekend was definitely one for the books.

the annual LA pop-up dinner, an event that brings people who enjoy food, wine, and dancing together for an evening shared under the stars. part of the excitement was from the event's "rules": everyone dresses in white; guests bring their own picnics and wine; the tables are bare so that we set them however we like; candlelight is required. the location was kept secret until two hours before the start time, which as you can imagine, made us even more eager for the festivities. once we discovered the dinner would be held at the will rogers mansion, we were thrilled to begin the night of eating, drinking, and frolicking to and fro.

at the end of the night, we joined the throngs on the dance floor. it was in that space where every good feeling was captured. we danced like it was no one's business, carefree, and with gusto. perfection. 

i look forward to next year's pop-up dinner: for the people who will be with me, the food that will be eaten, and the memories that will surely be made. 

when water tastes like air

you know you've certainly made the best decision in your life when water tastes like air. when you watch said best decision spend hours squeezed underneath the sink, installing a reverse-osmosis water filtration system. when he cranks and drills, fidgets and hammers without the slightest sign that it is a pain-in-the-ass. when he cares enough about your present and future health, that he will move mountains for you (and replace a water pipe). when, after a frustrating afternoon of handiwork, he pours you a glass of the purest water to ever touch your lips. when he kisses you and asks how you like it.

and then you say to him, with the most respect, gratefulness, and love you can possibly muster: this water tastes like air. 

dedicated to g, the best decision of my life.

hard to part

running in my new shoes today, i felt like i was skipping over clouds, as light as air and as graceful as a ballerina floating on stage. they were invigorating, if you can describe shoes that way. but as i took them off and placed them next to my previous pair of running shoes, i thought to myself: when am i going to get rid of these? and for that matter, when am i going to get rid of the other three pairs of torn-up, overly used shoes that are still piled in the closet?

there's something about my running shoes that makes it terribly difficult for me to let go. they are the physical manifestation of my time spent on the trails - every tear and flattened sole, a reflection of my feet pounding the surfaces in search of clarity. and then there's the pair of shoes that carried me through the finish line of my first half-marathon, and the other pair that helped me beat my race time in my second half-marathon.

i look at all my old running shoes as if they are time capsules, locking in the memories of challenges and triumphs, stressors and newfound freedom. but looking at this pile, i've come to the conclusion that these running shoes are just that - shoes. they are things, not the memories themselves. my heart and mind have already engrained the emotions from my running, and so with that, i'm finally going to let my shoes go.

my dear, sweet running shoes.

zombie

work is kicking my ass. BIG time.

it's just so busy.  crazy-busy.

on my days off, i start the day off with a run, or a swim, or spend some time at the ceramics studio just so i can clear my mind of the busyness.

and then i become a zombie and do things that don't require a life-or-death, on-the-edge-of-your-seat attention span. i do things like...

...listen to podcasts about toast; read articles about families who live in tiny spaces (don't knock 'til you've tried it); laugh way too hard through books written by david sedaris; nap in the morning and afternoon and right before bed; peruse through travel sites for good deals on airfare (something's gonna come up, i know); jam to some tunes as if they were written for me; and, really, my most favorite - be absolutely silent because i can.

i know it's just a season - The Hold-Onto-Your-Umbrellas-Beacause-It's-Raining-Babies Season - but when i'm not at work, dedicating myself to new life (!) and joyful celebration (!!), i give myself full permission to be a resting zombie.

meditating

this month, i've found myself in a particularly meditative state - something i once feared, but now savor. it was the sense of surrender that caught me off guard, the will and capacity to get lost in deep contemplation. how much easier it is to see the surface, to face the facts, and be on my merry way. but this month, i've felt this yearning to search within - to reflect, reminisce, and ask/seek/do the tough things.

i recently started pottery classes, which have been vital in allowing me to be more intentional about my thoughts. working on the wheel, i must focus and deliberate. i must use my entire body and strength to center my piece. i must use equal pressure in my fingers as i raise the sides. the moment i let something distract me, it becomes physically manifested in my work. meditation - pottery has certainly opened the door to mediation (and humility!). 

tomorrow marks the four-year anniversary that g and i met, and although we will be celebrating a whole new kind of anniversary in a couple of months (!!), i can't help but meditate on the importance of this day: july 25th. there will always be anniversaries for "the first kiss" or the "first time i said i love you." weddings are anniversaries in-and-of themselves, and who can negate the anniversary of your child's birth? but the day we met...how many people are celebrating that date with as much gusto?

july 25, 2010 changed the entire course of my life. it was the day i let someone in, and in so doing, learn about love. it was the day that would begin my journey through self-discovery, as i would soon realize that it's NOT all about me. i am forever thankful for that day, when the love of my life looked at me in the eyes and never turned away. 

july 25th is most definitely not a by-gone anniversary; rather, i celebrate it as the day that launched me to identify - and live - the very purpose of my life: to love and be loved.

happy anniversary, g. 

our first photo together, july 2010

our most recent photo together, july 2014

things are lookin' alright

once upon a year ago, i had a mad rush to move out of this city. the stress at work, the endless traffic, the self-entitled people with their imposing diet restrictions and manicured everything - i had enough of it. and when you have a picturesque dream city in mind (ahem, seattle), it makes the urge to move that much greater.

until now.

over this past year, i have come to re-appreciate this grand ol' city. my position at work has progressed, as i've earned my credibility as an L&D nurse. our home sweet home is truly one-of-a-kind, a hidden gem that feels like "us." the temperate weather that allows me to be outdoors all year long - running, hiking, swimming, sitting outside lazily embracing an afternoon tea.

and then there are these other things...

...like being a 5-hour drive from these spectacular views.

and eating, drinking, and napping outside.

going to world-renown venues (go bruins!!) to watch eclectic performances by creative people (can i get an eight-clap for ira glass?!)

and then there are those friends who are family, those few people who make this crazy city feel like home.

i had to grow up a bit to understand why i'm here, now. i had to open my eyes to the good around me, to the amazing opportunities in front of me, and to the love that was born in this very zip code. 

los angeles, i'll shut up now. thank you for putting up with my doubt. this is home. 

p.s. emma, if you read this, know that you were one of the firsts to help make this city feel like home. thank you for exploring our surroundings with me in college...those dates will always be cherished!