Deuces

It really was a beautiful spring day. We celebrated a life of love and humor. And funerals are not supposed to be happy, but there was a lot of joy around us this past Easter weekend. Uncle Mike, you will be remembered for your kindness and gentle soul.  You will be remembered for having similar traits to your 6 brothers.  Traits I know well because you were my father's brother. Stories that echoed a strong work ethic. Tales of resourcefulness, love of children and grandchildren and anecdotes of a dry, powerful wit that could miss most people who haven't spent considerable time with a "Dorado".  Only my cousins and I know what it's like to be the offspring of "one of the brothers", as you are collectively referred to, one not being of his own person... It's love that is inferred, though it wasn't said often.  It's jumping in the back of a crowded vehicle on a random, spontaneous "camping trip" with a loaf of bread and bologna.  It&#

My work BFF sends me a lot of astrology-related stuff lately and I can't help but feel bemused by his sense of wonder for everything in the stars.  But, of course, like all people I admire who think beyond the factual he effectually now has me checking my astrology every single day.  Blasted.     And once I've read my own and wondered what its life implications are I read Lloyd and the "moonchild's" horoscopes, and, on occasion, I'll even send screen shots of her reading via text, because I want Ariel to know I am inside her head and I've got her astrological number.  And when Lloyd or Ariel are having "off" days, astrologically speaking, I try to be a better version of myself to them because we could all use some kindness on our less-than-spectacular days. I hold in high regard people who believe in what they can only feel or intuit.  I laud their conviction and consistency.   And maybe I am picking up on my colleague'

I can almost feel the return to the old me.   It's the one who knows all the lyrics to the K-Day afternoon line-up.   It's the version of me that washes laundry and dishes in the middle of the night.   It is the unapolgetic mother who spends a little more time in non-sense conversations with her toddler than in sensible ones with adults.   It is the me that tries to carefully plan the weeks ahead, but is careful to not plan the years.   I don't have it all figured out,   and it's nice to get back to the version of me that loves that.   And my daughter reminds me of all that ain't too shabby with me.   "Don't worry mommy, it was an accident..."   And I both shake my head and smile when she says it, and she says it several times each day.   I don't know how to be upset when she forgives herself, or me.   When she becomes so entranced in her Monster's Inc. movie that our potty-trained daughter pees on t

I have missed my late nights.   I suddenly took on "morning person" attributes a few months ago...   I would wake somewhere between 3:30 a.m. and 5 a.m. and have boundless energy.   I would clean, work, plan, daydream and write.   But tonight, as I sit alone on the over-sized couch, I do nothing but enjoy the quiet solitude as I do one of my weeknight reconnaissance missions looking at Southern Californa homes and neighborhoods online.   I like looking at homes for sale.  I really don't know why.  Planning for some distant future, perhaps.   I like negotiating between the congested neighborhoods, concrete jungles in close proximity to downtown centers and the older, suburban homes lined on streets with mature trees and quiet sidewalks.   I always come back to those that are near the nature preserves and large parks, wide open spaces, large yards to plant beautiful things in...   And my favorite neighborhoods are those with all the colonial

Today I ran up to Mt. Rubidoux, with the grandest intentions to continue to  run up that great hill that overlooks the Inland Empire and Downtown Riverside.   And though my body had a visceral reaction to the incline that began somewhere between mile 6 and 7 of my lon-run goal, I enjoyed the occasional cool breezes and the site of families and friends making the trek toward the World Peace Bridge. As I made the climb toward the Cross that rests atop the paved hill, my body slowed from a jog to a heavy walk.  I forgave myself for my inability to push through the heaving of my own breath as I watched dogs on leashes with fashionably dressed-owners trek past me, tongues wagging, as if to commiserate with my pain.   As I circled back down, I picked up the pace, once more, though my body wanted nothing more than to stop moving.  And yet,   Unequivocally,   The highlight of the weekend was this run: My young daughter and husband behind or ahead of me at all times, waiting,

I've decided that of all the emotions I can feel, among the most crippling is to feel uninspired. It's everything that drives my everydays. And it's possible I've been battling a heavy dose of the "uninspired" lately. But I have slowly been letting it go, more or less, maybe enough to get over myself just a little... And I can attribute, as least in part, that singing "Let it Go", out loud, to my own kin's dismay, has helped me to carry on. "Mommy, it's too loud singing ..." Sayler's admonishment of what I can only call my finest theatrical interpretation of the hit single from "Frozen" didn't make me falter.  I smiled as I continued on, arms open wide, mop-as-microphone- in full confidence: "Let it GO! Let it GO! Can’t hold it back aaaaa-nymo-ooore...Let it GO, let it GOOOO, turn away and SA-LAM the do-oooor..." And then I realized that I didn't know the rest of the lyrics, and muc