What's Just Around the Corner

Last night I had the opportunity to catch up with an old friend over some great drinks and a very long walk.  It was a warm night, and there was just something so incredibly poetic about the entire experience.

I didn't know what to expect, as this encounter was more than unexpected.  So we just let the conversation flow as naturally as possible.  And I began connecting the dots, between his experiences and my own.

Perhaps because we are both writers and a little prone to emotional indulgences, we both ate up the nostalgia as if it were the most delicious main course in all of New York City.

But then, just as sudden and unexpectedly as the moment we ran into one another in a crowded market just a few days ago, the gravity of the situation hit me and I came to a startling realization; we never truly know what is just around the corner.

Isn't that absolutely magical?

I have to tell you that the past five days have been like something out of a movie.  There are young couples strolling hand in hand around almost every corner, kids blowing perfectly round bubbles the size of grapefruits along the paths in Central Park, and each scene is perfectly scored with some kind of pure and equally enchanting source music.  It's frightfully wonderful.

Every corner unfolds some depiction of life, love, survival, creativity, work, struggle and yes, the ever impressive American dream.

We are all in this place because it is feeding something within our hearts that is down right demanding to be heard.  In fact, the buildings themselves are demanding in their own right.  They stand over us; towering and impressive.  They have their own unique voices and dresscode.  The buildings provide me great company.  They are my beacons, my mile markers, and my way of navigating from one corner of the map to the other.

All these people I see around me have completely overwhelmed my senses.  And I find myself struggling to find the words to express what I feel each day as I walk through the countless blocks and stretch of concrete.

I can't very well explain it.  I can't really figure out how to quantify the countless moments I catch myself in awe.

And I know that this feeling will inevitably fade over time as I too, am cast alongside this wonderful hit show that is Manhattan.  But for now, I still catch my breath each time I turn a corner and am presented with granduer and wonderment.

Tomorrow I start my job.  And then, I will have officially taken my first big bite of this 'Big Apple.'  I will have my own routine and semblance of a life as a proper city girl.  Who knows what is waiting around the next corner... maybe the best is yet to come.

Until then, this corner is looking pretty good.

Today

Lil Nicky

1oz Vodka
1/2 oz Pama Liqueur
Splash of Soda
On the rocks with a lime wedge.

A Case of Cold Feet

You can be sure it is going to be a rather stressful day when every thought that crosses your mind upon waking ends with a question mark.  

When am I going to come back from NYC? When am I going to see my dogs again? Will they miss me when I am traveling? Or will they forget all about me?? Where will I get a job? If I get a job, will I end up staying through the winter in New York? Or will I go back to California in January? How long before my funds run out? Am I making the wrong choice? Is this a crazy plan? What if...? Where to...?  How much...???? When??? Why??? How??? Where??? 

I have to tell you, this is not a great way to start out the morning.  I sat in bed for nearly an hour as these questions ran through my mind; similar to the way the numbers on the stock market ticker race by with endless flux. 

And I couldn't help but ask myself one last question before getting out of bed: 'Am I getting cold feet?'  

I've had months to plan this excursion.  I have had ample time to carefully deconstruct every nagging fear or question.  And yet, out of nowhere, I am suddenly overcome with nerves.  

With nearly one week left to go before my impending journey, I feel more anxious than ever about taking this trip.  I know it is going to be such a good thing for me to experience, but the weight of the unknowns is a heavy burden to lug around... along with my huge suitcases. 

All these questions simply cannot be answered until I get there.  

And so, with that in mind, I am trying to look at it as a long vacation...  I have no clue what I will want to do after I arrive.  I am not sure if staying for more than a month or two will pan out.  But how can I know? I simply can't from where I sit right now.  

I guess this is just how life goes.  You have to take some chances and just hope for the best.  We can't always have all the answers laid out perfectly before us on a silver tray, but we can do our best to handle whatever may come. 

I'm just going to have to double up on the socks and slippers this week, suck it up, take a deep breath, pack my yoga mat... and try to keep my feet roasty and toasty...

Getting all worked up over the many variables isn't really doing me any favors.  Time to live and let go.   Let go and let God.  The rest are just the details. And who needs them anyway? Oh shoot... another question mark! 

Guess my feet are still a little chilly after all. Oh well... Better just enjoy what I have right now in front of me; two warm little dogs who love nothing more than to make every moment count. They are the zen masters of living in the present moment. Their paws are always nice and warm. 

 Today:

Absolut Stress

1/2 oz Absolut Vodka

1/2 oz Malibu Rum

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps

Equal Parts Cranberry

Pineapple and Orange Juices

On the Rocks!

Driven

They're baaaaaack... back to school that is.  It's official: the school year has begun.  Time to reroute trips to the grocery store to avoid school zones and schedule every errand around peak school bus and minivan carpooling hours.  Crosswalks, slow zones and never ending bus routes may drive you to insanity, or in the very least, remind you of the days when it was you, walking to and from the bus stop.

As for me, I was spared from riding the big yellow school bus.  My means of transportation evolved in three stages: K- 8th my mom drove me, 9th grade I rode with my brother who was a senior, and from my sophomore year of high school, through my senior year of college, I drove myself.

Those mornings driving to school with my mom were some of the best memories I have from my childhood.  My mom has a way of making even the most mundane task extra special.  If we had an extra ten minutes to spare, we would go through a drive-thru and get breakfast.  Those mornings are intertwined with my entire academic experience.  It made me a happier kid and it undoubtedly showed.  Showing up on time with a hot breakfast was a pretty great way to go to school. I was the envy of all the kids in my grade because it was no secret that I in fact, had the coolest mom in school. They were the good old days.

Then... came high school.

Halfway through my freshman year of high school I was called into the principal's office.  When I sat down in the chair opposite to him, I could tell I was in big trouble but I wasn't exactly sure why.  "You've been late 17 times so far this year.  You're suspended."  Suspended?? But I don't have a driver's license yet!! It's my brother!! He is suffering from an acute case of Senior-itis!

I had to explain to the principal that I was at the mercy of my older brother who was rapidly approaching graduation.  Every morning, I would carpool with him and would wait patiently as he color coordinated his shoe laces to match his jacket and hat.  As an owner of a clothing store and yes, also a high school senior, my brother was quite particular about his fashion statement... every single day. 

And to his logic, as long as we were already running late, we might as well go through the drive-thru and get breakfast. What's another fifteen minutes?? Late, was late.

I never did get suspended.  I actually think the principal was even a little sympathetic to my case.  He let me go with a warning and a detention slip.

After that first year of high school, I finally drove myself to school for the rest of my academic career. And although I was driven to succeed and to be on time, I never forgot those mornings where I was not behind the wheel.

They were the best mornings ever.  Perhaps it was a relief in some way, to be at the mercy of whoever it was behind the wheel; sitting in the passenger seat, without a care in the world, along for the ride.

When I was in the driver's seat, I realized something both exciting and a little sad: those carefree days as a passenger were behind me. My course, destination, ETA and means to get wherever I want to be was and is entirely up to me; the driver.  It was a realization that changed the way I looked at the road ahead.

And... I've been rather driven ever since.

In retrospect, I kind of wish I hadn't been in such a hurry to take the wheel.  But isn't that typical?  When we are young and dependent, we long for the day when we can take the wheel.  And when we grow up, we look back and think; Wow, I had it pretty good.  

Perhaps that is why our parents and teachers always warned us kids to not be in such a rush to grow up; because once you are, you'll never again have the luxury of letting others drive you everywhere you want or need to go.  

If you want to get to where you're going as a grown-up... you'd better be punctual, have a good sense of direction and above all else: be driven.  

Because if you can't get to where you're going, you won't have anyone else to blame.  For once you're in the driver's seat, it's entirely up to you to take the wheel and hopefully arrive safe and sound.

I just hope all these kids today know how good they've got it! Life is a journey, so you'd better enjoy the ride whether you are in the passenger seat or behind the wheel.  Slow down... It goes by so fast!    

Today:

Tijuana Taxi 

2 oz Gold Tequila
1 oz Blue Curacao
1 oz Tropical Schnapps

On the rocks in a highball glass
Splash of Sprite!

 

Breaking Bad JuJu

Long ago, in a tiki-bar far, far away, a lowly bartender was in a fight to preserve her sanity.  It was known across the land as the Terrible Twos: a curse that afflicted this otherwise enjoyable second day of the five day work week.  Tuesdays had suffered a massive plague.  It was a mysterious curse, affecting only a rare few within the tribe, and she was one of them.  As the rain poured and her identity was stolen, she wondered; how will I ever survive Tuesdays and break the bad juju?? 

AH HA! I will have someone cover for me!! I'll take the day off and hopefully break the spell... And that is exactly what she did... And she lived happily ever ...

WAIT... We're not even close to the end of this story!

Let's re-cap.  Breaking the Tuesday curse has been an ongoing battle.  The bad juju had fallen heavy on the shoulders of many good civilians on both sides of the bar. But with some persistence and scheming, the past three Tuesdays have consistently evolved into a day of renewed rest and relaxation.  

And although I've relished in the newfound delights on this slain day, I have to wonder: did I really do it?? Did I really take back my Tuesdays and break the bad juju for good?? 

That first tainted Tuesday I had covered by a coworker was an improvement to be sure.  Although the weather was still a little drab and stormy, I somehow managed to sink down into my small vessel and stay mostly dry as the raft continuously crashed into the jagged tree branches along the riverbanks.  A metaphor you ask?  No no, this actually happened. 

Okay, so it wasn't the greatest start to breaking the Tuesday curse.  I was hungry, a little cold and hung up in the tree branches: causing ice cold water to rush over the walls of my little inflatable boat.  But on the bright side, my sweatshirt somehow managed to stay dry and I hadn't lost grip of my beer to the strong currents of the river.  I wasn't behind the bar that day, the first Tuesday in weeks, so I considered it to be one small step in the right direction.

In the Tuesdays that followed, I had somehow managed to gain the upper hand.  Camping on the boat in the harbor of an enchanted Island definitely proved to be the moment that I felt sure that the tainted Tuesdays were a thing of the past. 

Oddly enough, I haven't been scheduled to work a Tuesday in weeks.  It's weird... IT'S GREAT... But it's weird. 

Ever since I took action and sought out someone to cover for me that one time, Tuesdays have consistently been my day away from the bar, to relax and recover from the madness of the weekend rush.  

Dare I even go so far as to say that I have come to enjoy Tuesdays immensely?? Well, there it is...  Hello, my name is Adriane and I am a Tues-aholic.  

A few weeks ago, a reader had suggested that I post a follow up to see if I had in fact successfully broken the negative cycle.  So today, perhaps a little preemptively, I have provided an update to show the progress of taking back Tuesdays. 

Although I have yet to leave the house today, I suspect that it is shaping up to be a lovely day off (she says reluctantly while knocking on wood).  

My hope for you dear readers, after learning of this little modern day quest for vengeance, is for you to break the bad juju in your lives as well.  Perhaps it's a different day of the week that you find particularly offending.  Perhaps it is an unfortunate work environment.  Or perhaps it is an overall slate that could use a deep cleaning. Whatever it may be, I encourage you to think outside the box and take back the tainted days in your 52 weeks a year as well.  

It may be one small step in a week's time, but a giant leap for the overall quality of your life.  One week rolls into the next, and before you know it, a brand new season is just around the corner.

While we can't always be sure as to whether or not we've truly managed to press the reset button on the dramas that repeat on a seemingly endless loop in our lives, we can (at the very least) do everything within our power to try. 

So far, it appears that I have somehow managed to turn my Tuesdays around for the good of mankind.  And I imagine we are all a little better for it.  

Today:

Tuesday Cure

1/2 oz Vodka

1/2 oz Gin

Splash of Cranberry juice

Splash of Grapefruit juice

Twist of lime 

a sprig of mint 

Before:

After:

photo credit: fanpop.com

Xena Warrior Princess

              

   

Shifting Gears

There's no experience quite as simple and gratifying than that of driving down the Pacific Coast Highway along the Southern California coastline in a standard shift sports car.  For a cool hour or so, and just a short stretch of blacktop from the Venice Beach boardwalk up to the dramatic cliffs of Malibu, the salty wind blows against your cheeks sending chills down the back of your neck.  As you head North, the afternoon sun casts a golden hugh across the windshield as it sinks into the vast expanse of the ocean, directly to your left. The road curves and the pace accelerates; it is truly a joy ride.  

This was the picture I had locked in my mind as I stood before my dream car: a hot little royal blue Mini Cooper.  With tricolor leather interior, a jamming sound system, and a huge sunroof, I could honestly say it was perfect.  I sat in the front seat, and for just a moment, I felt like a true road warrior.  I glanced up into the rear view mirror and adjusted it to my liking.  Bond, James Bond.  

I gracefully sank deeper into the driver's seat and imagined the drive.  Then something occurred to me that nearly drove my little imaginary joy ride off the cliff... I don't know how to drive a stick!

The car salesman didn't seem to be overly concerned about my lack of experience. "I'll teach you.  We'll take it for a test drive,"he volunteered. 

Is he delusional? No way am I going to take a brand new car off the lot without knowing how to shift gears!! He must have had a big plate of crazy for breakfast!

But somehow, with the subconscious image of James Bond as my alter-ego, I agreed to the challenge.  

It was horrifying.  I am pretty sure I stalled the car three times before even making it out of the lot.  First gear to second, push the clutch, shift, and release. The jarring forward motion was far from the vision I had initially fantasized: heading effortlessly down the highway.

The salesman seemed to take some twisted satisfaction from his temporary role of Driver's Ed teacher because no matter how many times I stalled that Mini, he patiently coached me through the process of getting all of us back to the dealership in one piece. 

The second time around the block was a little smoother.  By the third turn around the block, I was hooked.  This switching gears thing is actually kind of fun! Woo hoo!!  I'm taking it to third now... I'm such a bad-ass! 

As we pulled into the lot, I had experienced a type of bonding I hadn't ever known possible to share with an innate object.  And probably at the same moment, the salesman and I both realized something that made us both very happy: there was no way I was leaving without that car. 

Though barely broken in, I was ready to ride.  

Slowly, with the passing of time and a few hundred miles, switching gears was a process that felt like second nature to me.  From behind the wheel, anything was possible. The curve of the road, the peddles, the wheel, the gears, the pavement all felt natural: like we were one.  And I knew it was finally time to take the drive down the Coast Highway. 

It's funny how some fantasies really can come to life. 

Today, I set out on the open road yet again as a novice.  The process of shifting gears in life, is one that takes years of practice to perform with grace and ease.  It is an awkward experience to stall out, just when you thought you were about to kick it into high gear.  

But I believe that it's true what they say about this road we call life, 'It's a journey, not a destination' (or something like that anyway). 

Getting out of the passenger's seat to behind the wheel, I've learned a thing or two about switching gears: roadblocks, detours, fast lanes, slow lanes, turnouts, U-turns, and yes, even a few unfortunate accidents all led to the intersection I am at today. 

Though I'm not exactly stalled out, I have pulled over for a minute to study the map.  Which road should I take?  How much will it cost to get there? How much time will it take?  What if I get lost along the way?  

I realize, oftentimes it's perfectly okay to take the long way around.  The scenic route offers a perspective that short cuts may not.  And if switching gears is too awkward, remember to be patient with yourself when you are trying to master something new. 

One way or another, you'll get there.  And when you do,  you'll smile because you'll remember that first awkward moment when you first began shifting gears, upon hitting the road and never turning back.  

Just don't be too proud to ask for directions if you feel little lost.  That's how people end up right where they start: stalled in neutral gear. 

Today:

007

2 oz Vodka

3/4 Highball glass full of 7 Up

Splash of Orange Juice

Serve over ice.