The Honor System

In honor of Halloween, I'm posting this very scary picture, taken two years ago. No, it's not a cute costume or a trick-or-treater or a spookily decorated house. This is what happens when two moms see an "honor system" candy bowl and no one's around to say, "Hey! You're too old to trick or treat!"

And tonight, when the moon is full and my little goblins are out scaring the candy away from unsuspecting neighbors, I will keep my eyes peeled for more unattended candy cauldrons... If you see any with Reese's peanut butter cups or Junior Mints, let me know...

Swimming with Sharks

We took the girls to Heavens, just north of Malibu, and found an empty cove. The girls wandered over the rocks to a tide pool while Raf and I read our books, listened to our iPods, observed the random daytripper and shell-seeker. We dreamed about going to Spain and Italy next summer, discussing what the kids would eat, where to stay, lowering our expectations to simply a string of days on foreign beaches interspersed with Gaudi and gladiators. 

A pod of dolphins swam past the rocks. I counted them silently, wondering if the girls noticed them. One... two... three fins! 

"At least they're not sharks," I said to Raf, who took one earphone out and clicked off his iPhone.

"Yeah, I didn't tell you this," he said, squinting under his dark glasses, staring out to sea, "but a surfer got attacked by a shark last week, north of Santa Barbara. Guy my age."

"Attacked?"

Raf doesn't sugarcoat things. "Ate him. He washed up on the shore."

I didn't say anything at first. I blinked under my own dark glasses, searching the horizon for  answers. I wondered aloud if maybe the food supply for sharks has been affected by global warming or some other environmental illness, and maybe that's why we're hearing about more shark attacks closer to the shore.

"It's the first time a shark has killed a surfer in Southern California in 11 years," Raf said.

A few paddle boarders and kayaks sailed by the cove. My life with Raf flashed before me, glorious beach days like this one combined with the future I imagine for us, filled with traveling and surfing and weddings and grandbabies and growing old, really old, together. 

"I haven't told the kids," he said. "They'd never go back in the water."

"Or they wouldn't want you to go back in." I held my tongue though I wanted to add, Please don't get eaten by a shark... please don't get hurt ever...

He laughed. "Like I'd stop surfing because I'm afraid of sharks."

I let some time pass, considered the glint of sunlight on the glassy green surface of the water. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you," I said, trying my best to keep my voice flat, unemotional.

"You'd be okay."

"Yeah, but -- "

"You'd be okay. That's one thing we know, unfortunately. Life goes on." 

I saw the girls rounding the top of the rocks again, waving, pink-brown skin and bikinis, big smiles, beach hair. Max and death and Isaac and sadness and the Great Unknown swirled above them like the banners that soar behind small airplanes over beaches on sunny days. The ocean lulled below them, lapping softly at the barnacles on the rocks. Understanding seeped in, and I let it sit with me.

We swim with sharks.  And life goes on. 

We Can Be Heroes

Emme and I saw "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" together today. Frankly, I was a little nervous about taking my 12-year-old to a teen coming-of-age movie - I've also had reservations about allowing her to see certain parts of "Moonrise Kingdom," so maybe I'm just overprotective - but it turned out to be an incredible moment of understanding for both us.

The movie is based on a bestselling novel by Stephen Chbosky and explores the "dizzying highs and crushing lows" of growing up (text from the film website). But it's so much more, in the same way that "The Breakfast Club" and "Garden State" and even "The Big Chill" were much more than the sum of their celluloid frames. Within its quiet joys and even quieter heartbreaks, "Perks" said so much to me about my own life and the girl I was in high school, in part because it's set in the late 80s/early 90s and is filled with music I loved (the Smiths, David Bowie, even Camper van Beethoven).

Seeing it with Emme felt like a full-circle moment. On one level, I understood the characters and their struggles because I lived in their world at one time and was influenced by the same culture and music. But Emme understood them just as intimately, because she observes the same desires in herself and her friends: the need for love and acknowledgement and acceptance. And, maybe we even share the same questions, right now: Will I be okay? Will I make it through? Am I good enough to be loved in the way I want to be loved, fully and without judgment?

It reminded me that we are not actually the same age as our last birthday. We are *every* age we've ever been, made up of every moment we've ever had, and even though we can never go back, sometimes we can touch our fingertips to those younger selves and make contact.

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

- Stephen Chbosky

Random Thoughts While Driving

I have been on a long blogging hiatus and I'm only peeking out for a moment now, just to say hello and check back in. When I follow my friends' blogs, I always enjoy the feeling of closeness I get from knowing what they're doing and hearing the complexity of their inner worlds, the chaos and joy of their lives. I used to feel the same way about Facebook, but since I've taken a month-long FB hiatus, I don't miss all the extra noise. I check on certain friends as I think of them and that's about all I can handle. No offense to the pet lovers, but I've had my fill of adorable kitten pix to last a lifetime.

I took the picture at the top of this post while driving (I know, I'm wicked, Muriel) and of course it's blurry but it was one of those perfect autumn sunsets on PCH, windows cracked to let in the ocean breeze, a smattering of surfers savoring the glassy waters of Surfrider, and I didn't mind how long it might take for me to get home. As I drove, I considered the life I have now, the life I used to have, the lives of my children...

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when life changed, when I grew up, when I began to truly feel my age... But I feel all of these things now, all of a sudden, even though the feelings crept up gradually and I watched them cover me like fog rolling over a mountain. The strangest realization is, I don't mind aging. I don't mind getting older. I don't mind being called "ma'am" because, frankly, I'm not overly concerned about what strangers might think about me. (That doesn't mean I don't care about them or the rest of humanity; I just don't have time to be all things to all people anymore.)

What I do care about is being there - truly there - for four people: Raf and the girls. In the past few years, something clicked and I finally understood the importance of creating the world and life I wanted, rather than waiting for it to magically occur. And, almost as soon as I had this epiphany, I looked around and noticed that the people I loved most - my immediate family and closest friends - were similarly creating the lives they wanted. I also noticed that many of the people who presented major challenges to me - I couldn't deal with being near them, their "energy" was tough for me to handle - were not actively pursuing or creating a life they loved. And that was a huge revelation.

I guess the main thing I thought, as I drove home in the orange autumn glow of that Malibu sunset, was: when we're actively pursuing our dreams, there's not enough time to contribute to the drama and challenges of the world. 

And that's a good thing. Instead of ruminating on negativity, we can choose to focus on the steps we need to take to achieve our greatest dreams. Maybe we get to the "finish line," or maybe we find a new path in the middle of our pursuit and we change direction, following a new passion...

I thought about Frances Mayes recently, the author of the lovely Under the Tuscan Sun books. I met her twice on a single trip to Italy a few years ago - by chance, in two separate cities - and I remember thinking, "Wow, she's got it made. House in Italy, published author. She's set for life." A lot of people/writers may have continued writing only about Italy, continuing the same series about daily life in Cortona. Which she does, of course, but I've been inspired by how she's continued to live the way she wants and contribute to the world by following her passions, with cookbooks, poetry, travel books (about wandering and roaming away from the Tuscan sun), literary fiction... This is not a woman who was content to fall in love, buy a house, fix it up and write about it. Life goes on, new passions present themselves. What is supremely interesting or significant this season may be replaced by a new hobby or passion next season. And, with so many limitless possibilities, there's just no time to waste.

I must go back to the deadline I've created for the "completion" of my current passion, but I hope you're busy enjoying the fruits of this season, and that the next season will bring many more...

End of Summer

One of the only "up" sides to the end of summer (which happens in autumn here in SoCal, which is why I'm mentioning it in late October) was finally draining our Shrek-green saltwater pool so we could have the surfaces acid-washed and start fresh. I couldn't wait to get it drained, get it cleaned, and get sparkling new water in it. 

But the girls could have kept it empty for much, much longer.

What I Like About You

This is Kendra.

She just turned 39. (I know, right?) She blogged about it here, but I just had to add my two cents. In 39 years, this girl has managed to live a life that most of us can only dream of. She found the love of her life in high school and allowed him the honor of marrying her (lucky guy!!), then had three gorgeous kids in her 20s when the rest of us were navigating our messy love lives. She has built a successful career as an interior designer and gets the craziest kick out of transforming spaces from unusable and unlivable into beautiful rooms and homes that showcase her clients' (and friends) own style. She's volunteered at her kids' schools countless times and raised money to build a computer lab during the recession - I'm not even kidding. She works full-time, drives a Suburban and has a backyard full of pets.

And she's done it alongside her own creative, full, rich-with-love-and-friends-and-family life.

To say I love KP is an understatement. She is a mentor, a wealth of knowledge, a fashionista, a baker extraordinaire, a bubbly and entertaining writer (who manages to sneak in a lot of good info within her blog posts), a walking encyclopedia of People magazine and pop culture, always on-trend with her awesome nail polish and shoes, a phenomenal friend and the best person to invite ANYWHERE. She can crash a wedding easily (even in a coral dress and red lips) and comfort a friend in need. She can fix a boo-boo and bake a lemon cake at the same time. A gathering is not a PAR-TAY until Kendra shows up. And I have never laughed as much as I do with Kendra, on a regular basis (my face will hurt, my belly will ache, and my kids will be all, "What did she say? Well, why is that funny?").

Happy 39th, dear Kendra. I can't wait to see what you do next!

(And here's your quiz... can you even tell which picture of Kendra was taken 7 years ago and which is new?  No! Because the girl doesn't REALLY age!!)

Dreams

Images and text from Christine Rose Elle via Pinterest

I am a big believer in dreams. 

Most mornings, I wake up and consult my dog-eared copy of The Dream Book by Betty Bethards, to see what my subconscious was trying to work out while I was sleeping. This practice has not only helped me curb my real-life irritation at my real-life husband over things his dream likeness may have done, but which my kids are starting to adopt.
One of my go-to songs at the local open mic night is “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac, for the symbolism as much as the melody and Stevie Nicks’ boho growl.

I collect cute images, like this one, on Pinterest and elsewhere, reminding me to live my dreams. In fact, this very second, I’m looking at one that’s pinned in front of my laptop that reads:

The future belongs 

to those who 

BELIEVE 

In the beauty of their dreams. 

And I want to believe it, I do.

My summer has been one of struggling to complete a project that I started about five years ago. FIVE YEARS. My project could be going to kindergarten in the fall. It continues to be daunting, even though my silent, observing self can see that it is progressing, and I’m just trying to get it done by the end of the summer.

This is a long way of saying to you “THAT’S why I haven’t been blogging lately!” I have things to share and say and show to you, but they will have to wait until I’m done with this project. I am trying to say “no” to more things/invitations/fun stuff, all for the greater good of my own dream: to finish a book.

However, if you’re missing some good blogging this summer, I have a few great suggestions. These are some of my best friends AND some darn good writers:

Kendra Kay - A super-hot celeb interior designer who just so happens to have three kids and a hilarious perspective on life. Plus, super cute DIY projects. You will LOVE.

Christine Rose Elle – The grande dame of glamour and sparkling well-being. One moment, she’ll weigh the pros and cons of eyelash extensions and the next, she’ll help you face your fears of being the most awesome gal you can be. Plus, it’s a damn fancy, pretty website, like cotton candy for your eyes.

Deirdre Lewis – The “David Sedaris” of Los Angeles, if David were straight, had three kids and reported his findings on each morning’s dog walks. It is like nothing else you’ll read. I am constantly amazed by her blog posts – each one will make you laugh out loud AND want to cry. Wicked, irreverent, so well written.

I don't miss a single post of any of these blogs, no matter what. Deirdre and Christine are also avid Tweeters, so look 'em up... And YOU'RE WELCOME!

Here's to the beauty of all our collective dreams.

xoxo