It's Not You, It's Me

One month ago, I arrived in New York; and ever since that first moment when my feet hit the long stretch of concrete, my mind has been a complete mess of muddled mush.

Imagine the fastest, highest, wildest roller coaster ride you've ever been on in your life.  The world around you flashes by in an instant.  Strands of hair whip you across your face, whether it's your own hair or the person sitting next to you.  You have no idea what has possessed you to stand in line for what feels like an eternity, only to get whipped in the face, jerked from side to side and nearly losing your lunch.  

You step off the roller coaster and have absolutely no recollection of what you saw as you were being hurled through the air along the winding track, but you are fairly certain it was amazing because it felt amazing.  My friends, that is the only way I know how to describe the past four weeks of my life in New York City. 

Each day has been a surprise, an exercise, a conflict, a challenge, an enlightenment.  

I have felt happy, intimidated, courageous, lonely, afflicted, creative, tired, observant and every now and then: defeated.  

Every moment has demanded some measure of concentration: even if only to close my eyes and try to let go of the events of the given day.  In this city, while working full time at a new job and still living out of two suitcases, even the seemingly simple and natural act of sleeping requires a concentrated effort.  

My writing had been set aside these past few weeks, as I opted to take in what I saw, rather than share it with the world as I had been this past summer.  

The lack of stability and familiarity has burdened my thoughts and mind in such a way that is difficult to articulate.  And as I sat on the shore of the East River along Brooklyn's busy borough, I wondered; Am I happy?

And much like the meager attempt to enjoy the view from a speeding roller coaster, I began to see happiness in a similarly blurred and mysterious way.  I had ventured out of Manhattan in an effort to see the sunset; something that is very difficult to do in an otherwise completely vertical city. And as I sat there gazing across the river, I began to laugh a little as the sun sank behind the entire island of Manhattan, still blocked by the skyscrapers that line the entire radius of the city.

It was funny, because in that moment, I realized how much effort it is going to take to survive here.

Am I happy here?  Was I really ever happy anywhere?

For short stints of time, yes, I felt happy.  Skipping around from place to place trying to outrun, outsmart, outmaneuver myself.  But time and time again, the void followed.

And now, as I sit at my computer and finally bring myself back to my writing, I realize that the void is not where I reside, but rather what has always been residing within me.

It is terrifying to finally understand that I need to face my fears, and hopefully believe in myself enough to follow my dreams.

New York City is only the backdrop of this story I have decided to share with you.  And I will tell you this much; it is a character all its own.

Today:

Peach Bellini

Fresh Peach puree
Glass of Prosecco

Back to Work and Getting Settled!

I never thought I would be so excited to get back to work! Can you believe it?? After only four days in NYC, I am now employed and ready to serve up some drinks once again.  Talk about moving quickly!!

It's amazing how much better I felt when I woke up this morning.  It was like I could actually relax and go have a fun day of walking adventures.  Knowing that I have an income in the immediate future provides me tremendous relief.  

NYC is just one of those cities where you don't want to go broke.  

But to be perfectly honest, it's more than just a financial relief.  When you uproot your life and move to a huge city such as this, it is very unsettling to not have certain things in order.  It felt good to wake up today and know I have somewhere to be on Monday at a certain time.  To know that I fit in and that I am respected by managers and so on is something that brings me great contentment.  

It is a nice feeling to be able to meet new people and have something in common, even if it is only our place of employment.  It just feels good. 

I feel like I'm part of it now; like I'm really here.  

I know that the next major box to check off will be to actually find my very own room to rent.  But for now, I'm really happy.  

I can't even begin to describe how amazing it is to have good friends.  My almost instant transition to the city would not have been so seamless if it were not for my friends here in NY.  

These amazing individuals have been looking out for me, networking, calling, texting, e-mailing, sending out my resumes, apartment hunting and teaching me all about the public transit system.  I honestly don't know if I could have, or would have even wanted to do this without them. 

I think today I just feel so much gratitude.  I have the most loving friends and family.  I have a new job that will provide some stability.  And I have this great big delicious city, to dive into, head first.  

I just don't think I could ask for much more.  

Today:

Mint Chocolate Martini

1 1/2 oz Vodka

1 oz Chocolate Liqueur

1/2 oz Peppermint Schnapps 

Swirl of chocolate sauce in the glass. 

Shake and Strain into a martin glass. 

Get Serious...

Sometimes in life, you just have to get real.  Get serious.  It is part of the growing process; knowing when to put away certain fanciful dreams or unrealistic aspirations... right?  

Isn't that why it's called reality?

Well, lately I am struggling to grasp this entire philosophy.  I am in a process of juggling "reality" with my desire to pursue a (hopefully successful) career in the Arts.  

Yesterday, I sat around for a long time, thinking about this whole business of writing.  I have been engrossed in this medium for a very long time and most recently, developed some regularity with it.  But then someone said I ought to really write, you know, seriously.  

This left me almost short of breath as the word "seriously" washed over me.  Am I not taking my writing seriously... or rather, myself seriously? 

I've only just begun writing again on a regular basis, but lately I have been wondering if I should I apply all this creative energy to a more serious pursuit: like maybe a screenplay or novel.  

But then, I go into a really negative zone and begin to feel (dare I even utter the word) blocked.  And then the blockage seems to creep into the other free flowing creative outlets, spreading a foggy haze.  

And it makes me feel frightfully inadequate. 

So that is where I am at tonight; feeling a little blocked, a little foggy and seriously concerned that nothing will amount from any of this.  

I suspect we all have days like this; and today is just one of those days for me.  

Hopefully, I will snap out of it soon and get back to my regular old self; you remember the one, full of positivity, witty anecdotes and metaphors galore??? Yup, that's the one.  

Seriously... that's about as serious a writer I am gonna get tonight.  

Today:

1 oz Malibu

Splash of Pineapple Juice

The Calm Before the...

From where I sit today, there is nothing but blue skies and calm seas ahead... literally. It honestly could not be a more picturesque afternoon here on the St. Mary's River.  And to be perfectly honest, as much as I am truly enjoying every moment of it, I can't help but wonder what is waiting on the other side of this seemingly picture perfect September day. How sad! 

I have come to realize just how jaded that sounds!! Does every good thing in life always come with a price? How fortunate are those lucky mega-million lotto winners anyway?? Aren't there a hundred different crazy statistics that suggest a wave of bad luck that ensues upon cashing in your winning ticket?? Ugh... I am beginning to sound pretty paranoid.  

I can't tell you when this little habit began, but somewhere along the way, I began to knock on wood.  After every possible statement of absolution or certainty, I would immediately sense some dangling threat of demise out there... just waiting to prove everything to the contrary.  

And so, I began to knock on wood, throw salt over my shoulder (though now I forget which side is the lucky one) and guard my hand mirrors from shattering at all costs. What is wrong with me???

I get extremely uncomfortable with statements like; 'That'll never happen,' 'that's impossible,' or the worst, 'everything will be just fine.'  Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!! (Knocks on wood.)

Recently, I have attempted to become less of a skeptic; perhaps because I so desperately want to believe that great things can actually occur without some torrid aftermath. Or maybe it's to preserve my delicate hands from knocking feverishly on dining tables, chairs, floors, siding, row boats, pencils etc.  It seems to be some new revised form of superstition, and so I'm not sure how counter-productive these new methods are.  

Instead of sweating bullets for what I fear could happen, I have opted instead to sweat out the anxiety through a ninety minute hot yoga session.  Instead of calming my nerves with an epic freak out, I am turning to the calming blend of essential oils and quiet reflection.  Exhale... Namaste.  

Is it working?? Hmmm, I may have to test this theory for years to come in order to answer that one.  That would only be fair, considering the decades I have spent looking over my shoulder for the, dare I say, inevitable?? 

Although I cannot promise any miracles here, I may just be a few steps closer to striking a happy balance between caution and optimism.  

Could it be possible to just look out and solely appreciate the absolutely perfect day? Given that I just winced while typing the word perfect... I would venture to guess I still have a ways to go. 

But a willing heart is capable of tremendous things! Oh...hello there my little optimistic other half... Welcome back!  

What can I say?? I guess I'm a work in progress.  It's so easy to get caught up in a whirlwind of anxiety over what could happen... 

But no matter what could happen tomorrow, it truly doesn't change how utterly beautiful it is today.  Perhaps this is the calm before the storm.  But if I'm wrong, and my suspicious nature is merely at work again, what a shame it would be to cast that "doomsday" spin on such an otherwise perfect day.

I kick myself and repeat under my breath, "It isn't doomsday. It's Wednesday."  And on that note, I think I will go for a walk and enjoy what is... and not fear what could be. Life is too short for that type of consistent negative mentality.  And this day is far too pretty to feel anything other than peace.

Today:

Brandy Alexander

1 1/2 oz Brandy

1 oz Dark Creme De Cacao 

1 oz Half and half

1/4 tsp of Nutmeg

Shake and strain into a martini glass. 

   

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!

The Unfortunate Mouseacre

It's official; I'm traumatized. For the past few days, I have been engaged in an ongoing internal battle of ethics.  Do you suppose it is ethical to lay out poisonous traps throughout your garage/laundry/storage facility with every intention of wiping out any and all unsuspecting trespassing rodent species??  I used to believe that it was sadly a necessary part of life.  You have to protect your home from these pesky intruders, right?? Well, after the unfortunate mouseacre that I unknowingly participated in over the past few days, I'm just not so sure.

Perhaps to fully understand the gravity of the situation, I probably ought to go back to the very beginning.

A few days ago, I went downstairs to the garage to do some laundry.  No big deal, just another ordinary day.  Until the moment I dropped a bunched up sock and it rolled behind the washing machine and landed right next to one very dead mouse.

The mouse had hacked up a small puddle of what I assumed to be something formerly internal... And I knew without a shadow of a doubt the cause of death: poison.

I was horrified.  But if that wasn't already bad enough, I glanced to the space next to the air conditioning unit and saw another dead mouse in a very similar state: dead as a doornail.

I shrugged it off after a few hours though, after convincing myself that this was just one more unfortunate aspect of survival on this planet.  Sometimes, you have to take out a few rats to protect what is rightfully yours.

But then, this theory was completely shot to shit yesterday upon revealing another gruesome discovery.  Mommy and Daddy mouse had left behind at least five little baby mice.  I noticed the babies after hearing a constant squeak/cry that persisted for hours upon hours.

They were so tiny.  Their eyes hadn't even opened.

I thought for sure that they had been infected with poison, as the two that were still alive were crying and writhing in a way that surely looked like a pain from their stomachs.  Well I was only partly correct.  The babies were not suffering from poison, but rather from starvation.  Who knows how long they had been sitting there, crying out for their mommy.

Well, basically, I couldn't stand it anymore.  So I decided to scoop them into a dish and put the last two survivors outside... to let nature takes its course.

And when I walked away and left them to the elements, I began to cry.  I know, I know... they are just mice!!! For goodness sake, they will grow up to destroy things and spread diseases...

But I honestly can't help myself.

I felt so bad; in one swoop, we had somehow managed to massacre an entire rodent nuclear family.

And so, after I shed a few tears and pleaded for forgiveness from these helpless infant mice, I made a decision... to be a vegetarian...

I'm sorry, but I'm just not cut out to kill anything that has whiskers, fur and snuggles their siblings... I'm just not up for the job.

So I guess, ultimately, the sacrifice of these mice may have saved one less cow from ending up on the grill.

Oh who am I kidding?? Probably not... 

But at least not for me.  Salad for dinner.

Today:

Madras

1 oz Vodka
Equal Parts Orange Juice 
and Cranberry Juice

On the rocks.

Left Foot Faith

Late last night, I stayed awake for a long time pondering the nature of faith.  And what I realized nearly moments before drifting off to sleep, is that faith is probably the best gift anyone can ever give to another person.  

To have true faith in someone is an extremely selfless act.  It is basically a show of support that may require more on your part to stand by, than the abilities of the other.  You aren't expecting an outcome. You aren't requiring any preliminary action.  You simply offer a show of support in your unwavering belief.  

Faith in its truest form is infectious and utterly philanthropic.  

I am so fortunate to have experienced this selfless show of faith.  And knowing that there is someone out there who believes in what I say and what I do, or will do, is a gift that I won't ever forget as long as I live.  

Why should anyone have faith in me anymore? Do they see something that I cannot?  Why should anyone believe me?? Why should anyone believe in me?

I guess those are the questions that often come to mind when seeking out support from family or friends.  While I surely haven't intended sell myself short, there have been many occasions where I simply followed my heart and found myself at a wrong turn, a stop sign and a dead end.  It was a frustrating experience to have proved myself wrong from time to time.  But the funny thing is, it was faith that moved me to those decisions.  So was my faith faulty??

The problem is, with the type of faith I was accustomed to giving, I had always hoped for some end result for my own personal gain. But I sadly did not know that going into the faithful transaction.  It was always when the dust settled and I felt a sinking disappointment in my stomach for being let down that I realized that the faith I had given, wasn't wholly free.  Like standing balanced on your right foot instead of your left; you have enough faith that your left foot can hold you up, but you have more faith that your right foot will simply handle the job with greater ease and efficiency.  

The faith I had given, was like a 'right foot' show of faith. This show of support and belief had strings tied closely to my heart and upon the crumbling of the outcome, were therefore were tugged, yanked and ultimately untied.  And when I felt let down, there was an emptiness beyond repair.  

But when I realized last night the true wonder of unwavering faith, I was so filled up inside with gratitude that I could hardly sit still.  What a gift I have been given!  Time to put my left foot forward for a change... and have a little faith. 

There are no strings attached as far as I can see.  It is given so freely. 

I can only aspire to achieve whatever hope a person has afforded me; and honor the show of selfless faith through my actions and experiences in life. 

Perhaps I can also learn to stand on my left foot a little more often, strengthening the balance of the entire being: mind, body and spirit.  And maybe, someday, I can be strong enough to offer someone else that kind of faith and unwavering belief.  Not for any personal gain, but simply as a means of lending a hand, or even a foot if need be.  

It is a challenge these days, to find anything or anyone who may seem worthy of our faith.  We may find ourselves hurt when the lucky recipient of our belief chooses a different way, or worse, fails to believe in themselves at all.  

What a wonderful world it could be, if we push ourselves toward the selfless extension of faith.  Even if it is merely faith in ourselves, faith in a friend, or faith in having faith...  

What if we could simply believe in our own inherent worth and talents, without the pressure of a defined or expected return?  

After experiencing this selfless act of faith, I am determined to cultivate more to spread it all around. It is infectious...

See, that's the greatest thing about truly believing in someone no matter what; you never know how it will affect possibly a hundred thousand more people, all because you planted to seed inside of just one.  

Today:

Vodka Sonic

1 oz Vodka

Equal parts Soda and Tonic

Rocks with a lime wedge

 

Connecting the Dots

From as far back as I can remember, I've always had a different way of getting the job done.  Didn't really matter what the task at hand was, nor was I really trying to do it differently from everyone else, but I couldn't help it...  The earliest memory of this 'do it yourself' attitude, probably goes back to when I first started kindergarten.  

We were introduced to those "connect the dots" assignments; you know, the ones where the dots are numbered and you follow each one with your crayon or pencil until you reach the end and reveal some kind of animal, vehicle or other basic shape? Yeah, well, apparently I even did that... eh, differently. 

The teacher (bless her heart) stood over my right shoulder and studied my methodology.  I held my pencil steadily in my right hand, without moving an inch.  Then with my left hand, I guided the paper from dot to dot... So I was still completing the picture, just not the way everyone else was.  

"No, no sweetie, move your right hand to connect the dots, not the paper..." 

What's the problem lady? As long as I get it done, why do you care how I did it? Jeeesh!

And so began my plight with formalized education. See, I realized that I do NOT possess that brain cell that is the most adept to short cuts, or common sense...  In fact when I see these types of people who bust out crazy one handed, multi-tasking trickery, I stop and stare as if they are a magician. If left to my own devices, I oftentimes take a more creative, outside the box approach.  But if you put a book in front of me and say, 'study the history of the universe,' I will...

Which leads me to the much dreaded/feared U.S. constitution exam in the eleventh grade.  It was legendary and 'impossible.'  Or so everyone thought.  But I, the weirdo, locked myself in the basement of my house with flash cards, highlighters and way too much candy, and didn't come out for almost four days.  I went to school, took a deep breath, and was the last person to finish the exam. 

By the next class, everyone protested that test.  It wasn't fair.  It was too hard. They all failed miserably...  Then the teacher said, "Well I know for a fact it was possible to pass this test, if you all had studied the material. Because there is one student in this class who not only passed, but she got an A."  He looked at me and I immediately slid down into my chair.  When he held up my exam to class and then walked over to my chair, he set it down in front of me with the most subtle grin I'd ever seen; "Well done. Very well done." 

Oh God, it's going to be a mutiny.  You should have seen the way those kids looked at me; like, 'thanks a lot bitch.' 

My score completely blew their collective protests right out of the water.  There was one other girl in the class who passed and she looked at me like we were the most awesome geeks ever!!  She actually was kinda nerdy though, so I knew she was loving every second of this academic torture.  

I had ruined it for the rest of the class.  But you know what? I'm glad.  It kind of made me feel like a super hero or something.  Because the memory of being "corrected" that day in kindergarten for the way I had completed the assignment always bothered me.  I remember feeling so confused and embarrassed.  I didn't understand why I had to be called out for the way I was connecting the dots.  Especially since the end result was still the same... 

And if my way was harder, why not let me figure it out on my own?  Oh gosh, I can't help but laugh at the image of my pint sized self, moving the paper around and not my right hand... Awww... Bless my heart.  

Those two scholastic memories are obviously the ones that made a huge impact on me.  I learned from a very early age that I might have a different way of doing things... not exactly wrong... just different. And that one day, doing things my way, would pay off in the long run.  

I think there are probably a million ways to connect the dots in life.  It may not be the most obvious or standard approach.  But it's not only okay to be different, it may just be the very thing that separates you from the rest of the class.  And that's not such a bad thing after all.  

I suppose I just need to remind myself every now and then of that girl who has managed to get by just fine by connecting the dots in her very own, unique way.  Who knows what that picture will be? Maybe, when I connect that last dot, what I will see, is just me... 

Or an A+... yeah, that would be okay too. 

Today:

Teacher's Pet

1 1/2 oz Blended Whiskey

1/2 oz Dry Vermouth

1 Tsp. Sweet Vermouth

2 dashes of Bitters

Stir on the Rocks

Garnish with a cherry and orange

Divided We Stand

I must say, last night's presidential address from the White House couldn't have come at a worse time.  And from what I gathered from his speech, it would seem as though that is the overwhelming consensus of our nation.  On the eve of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks that occurred over a decade ago, killing so many Americans, I couldn't help but sit and watch the address and cringe at the thought of yet another war.  

No matter which side of the debate you stand, you can't help but feel the weight of the September 2001 attacks.  It is as if the ashes and dust from the fallen two towers still waft and linger in the air: it just hasn't settled yet.  

For a moment, I almost imagined that I was seemingly the only one still greatly affected by that horrifying day.  How naive. 

I walked into a small market yesterday afternoon and overheard a few employees gathered around the register reminiscing the day that our country changed forever.  As is almost a cliche anymore, they asked one another a very common question;"Where were you?"  They each had a different story, but each person remembered that morning with absolute precision and clarity.  

And I couldn't help but remember too.  

I think what is so unfortunate all these years later, aside from the glaringly obvious loss of so many human beings no matter their nationality, is that we cannot seem to move past the climate of terror at home and abroad.  

I remember the thousands of posters and flags that were proudly displayed almost instantaneously after 9/11 and how so many boasted a common slogan of patriotism: 'United We Stand'. 

How far from that sentiment we are today.  We are a nation fiercely divided.  And as much as we bicker amongst ourselves and split hairs over the future of our country, it seems more apparent than ever before that we are at war, with each other.  

I really don't like to dwell on the negative.  In fact, most of the time I am hard pressed against taking jabs at the "other side."  I'm just not a fan of political satire, because at the heart of almost everything comical in life, is a deeply rooted undercurrent of heartbreak and disjointed, opposing ideals.  Kind of like a comedian who pokes fun at the most depressing aspects of humanity.  We are divided.  

And I am not sure how to begin working to close that divide.  I may not agree with everything that is happening in our country, but who is??? Can everyone be satisfied? When has it ever been possible to make everyone happy?? 

Perhaps the only thing we can agree on, is that we aren't over what happened on this day in Manhattan, twelve years ago. I do not want to go backwards.  That is the honest truth. 

I know it may be wishful thinking, but I certainly do not want our country to enter into yet another war.  At the same time, I am horrified at the thought of what other human beings are enduring abroad.  

I don't have the answers, and I will not pretend to fully understand the various negative implications on either side of the debate, or for that matter, even the positive ones.  

But I do understand enough about the art of war to know that a divided front is much easier to manipulate and attack than a united one.  We are not standing together.  At least we can agree on that.  

It is as though we are in the greatest identity crisis of our time.  Who are 'Americans' anymore?? What do we stand for? How brave are we? Is corrupt intent of greed operating under a mask of 'bravery'?  Are we the world's policemen?  Do we want that job? 

We cannot seem to agree on any of those answers.  And yet, we must continue to live our lives.  We may have just so happened to have been born a U.S. citizen... But is citizenship born or made?  Both perhaps?? 

I'm sad today.  

I'm sad because I feel at odds politically with some of the people I love and admire the most; my friends and family.  Is that what makes our country weak or unique?  Hmmm, I just don't know anymore. 

I am slow to want to define myself on this issue because I do not see a clear picture on either side.  I do not see positive or constructive resolve either way the political wind is blowing.  

I just see my friends and fellow citizens at odds.  And all I can be sure of is that we are very far from where I hoped we would be.  

Today, I just hope that while we "Never Forget" what happened, or what could happen, I hope we also never forget how fortunate we are to simply be alive.  No matter what country you call home.  No matter where you live, what you do, who you imagine yourself to be; if your stomach is full today and you are able to mindlessly enjoy the warmth of a cup of coffee, well then we can agree that life is pretty good. 

Let's please, practice compassion and an act of kindness on this day, so that we may stand united, if only from that shared sentiment and action.  

Today:

Red, White, Blue

1/2 oz Grenadine

1/2 oz Peach Schnapps or Vodka

1/2 oz Blue Curacao

Layered in a shot glass! 

Salute and shoot! 

Live a Little

You know how people have bucket lists; all the things to see and do before you die?  I often wonder how mine would compare to someone else's.  Would it seem unrealistic or crazy?  Probably not.  I guess to my way of thinking, it is really quite simple.  I don't really have items to check off that are super dangerous or exotic.  In fact, you might even say it was kind of... a short list.

A short bucket list.  Huh.  Well I suppose that is the good news...  Shouldn't be too difficult to accomplish, right?  Eh, wrong! 

I may not have any desire to climb Everest, parachute from a plane, or anything extreme like that, but I do want to live a little.  

The older I get, the more I realize how difficult it is to accomplish all the things you imagined for your life, when you were young.  And although I am not old per se, I am old enough to understand that my bucket list may be a lot more difficult to execute than I had initially anticipated.  

Not every item on the list is something solely within my own power to procure.  Having a family for instance; it all sounds pretty simple, but it isn't something totally in my power or control.  Or is it?  You know, I will have to cycle back around to that one later.

In any case, having a basic outline of things you wish to see, do, experience or accomplish in your life is a good thing.  Checking those things off, is even better. 

In some ways, it's deflating to recognize how little I have actually done thus far to check off this list.  The Seven Wonders of the World for instance, may take years to see.  Seven widely distant, far off places; all requiring time, money and a current passport (if you want to see them all).  Anyway, you get the picture. 

After much consideration, I have made a minor tweak to my list.  I simply challenge myself to experience life (a little) outside of my comfort zone.  You know; try eating weird things with squishy textures, stay out walking with friends until sunrise, wear red lipstick like a fearless fashionista, audition for a broadway play, paint a portrait in the gardens of Versailles or Central Park, eat gelato on the back of a speeding scooter through Rome, or maybe even go on a blind date... 

I think it's time to savor the sweetness of life.  I've been a little scared.  I've been cautious. Because I have already fell on my face financially and romantically a few times this past decade, this shouldn't be too difficult a task.  

Life is for the living.  And I do believe that while we certainly cannot control much, we can do what is within our power to expand our horizons and push our own perceived limitations.  I think it's time to get out there and live life... if only just a little.

There's no time like the present.

Today:

Dirty Gin Martini (one of my favorites)

2 1/2 oz Hendricks Gin
Splash of Olive Juice
Swirl and strain into a chilled martini glass
Garnish with three olives.

Bucket List: Live in an Airstream

Fearlessly Eat Exotic/Squishy Foods

Have a little fun...

  

Change: I Can Roll With It.

Do you know what I've been up to this past week since turning in my bartender keys?? Aside from the obvious answer of blogging and consuming unhealthy amounts of coffee each morning, I've been steadily taking up a collection from my personal supply of spare change.  I sit on the floor each night and a few minutes every morning, sorting, counting and rolling.  Bet you didn't see that coming did you??

Hey, I'm no slouch when it comes to pinching pennies.  In fact, I've always been teased for the way I squirrel away every last cent.  But desperate times call for desperate measures! 

It didn't take long for the relief of leaving my last job to wear off.  The deep sigh of relief has now progressed into shallow breaths of anxiety.  How am I going to pay my bills now? I need to make just a little more money before heading to New York.  What am I going to do?

These are the kinds of thoughts that are probably amplified by the obscene daily dose of caffeine brewing from my kitchen each morning.  If there was ever a weakness of mine, it would have to be coffee.  Of course, if you've been reading along since July, you probably already know this to be true.  

So as I stumbled into the kitchen sometime last week, newly unemployed and plagued with this terrible bug to travel, I poured a cup of comfort in a cup and made an assessment of my situation.  

The dilemma is, I wasn't able to reach my financial goal in the three months I spent behind the bar this summer.  It was a seasonal position, as most jobs are this far up north.  In fact, once Labor Day had come and gone, so too had all the people! 

This place, as aforementioned in my earlier posts, is an idyllic summer retreat.  People travel far and wide to this town to soak in the summer sun and swim in the aqua blue waters of the Great Lakes.  Until late August that is; when the leaves begin to show signs of the impending cold that promises a six month long deep freeze.  

That's when the town's numbers are cut in half and along with it, the job opportunities. That was not a surprise to me.  That was part of the plan.  I had a deadline.  I had an exit; an escape plan of sorts.  

But as we all know too well, things have a way of changing.  Plans change.  Seasons change.  It's okay; change is how I roll.  I've figured out how to handle change much better than I used to... Huh, changes... Change. Roll with the changes. Now there is an idea... Roll some change!

Okay, so it's not exactly going to solve my problem entirely.  But, it has given me something productive to do while I figure out the bigger picture.  

In case you were wondering, yes I am rolling the change myself.  There are machines that sort and count change of course, but they take a huge percentage! And since I've become an amateur coin enthusiast anyway, I really don't mind the tedious process of picking through the piles and periodically checking the dates the coins were minted.  In fact, I would even say that I enjoy it.  

Go ahead and tease me.  I realize that this information only amplifies my super nerd status.  Blogger.  Film Geek.  Roller of spare change and collector of wheat pennies.  

While I'm on a roll (pun intended), I might as well tell you that I have flash cards for all these drink recipes that I carry with me to the bar.  So I guess that makes me a nerdy bartender as well.  

While I still haven't figured out how to solve my financial woes, at least I've made a small dent this past week by accumulating all my spare change.

I can rest easy, knowing that my time away from work hasn't cost me anything yet.  After all, a penny saved is a penny earned.  

I believe now more than ever that change is a good thing. 

Today: 

Cosmopolitan

2 oz Vodka

1/2 oz Cointreau

Splash of Cranberry Juice

Splash of Lime Juice

Shake and strain into a martini glass. 

Beware. Be Aware. Be Where You Are!

Whoa now... Take it easy!  Slow down and stop for a second! Be where you are at this very moment and take a look around!  These were the thoughts running through my mind as I stepped out into the brisk September night.  I had just been engulfed in a conversation of hypotheticals with a good friend. Scenarios presented to one another such as: if you could live anywhere, do anything, not have to factor in anyone, and money wasn't a problem etc. then what would that picture look like?

We went off on wild tangents about where we might love to live for a year or two if money or reality wasn't an issue.  It was really fun to get lost in the hills of Tuscany if only for a moment; imagining an intimate Italian feast complete with a host of fabulous European friends.

Then the conversation morphed into a petrie dish of our present lives.  We sat around, dissecting the many variables; the 'what was,' 'what is,' and 'what is yet possible.'  And a simple exploration of dreamland, took a hard turn into the bleakness of reality.

All I could think about was getting to the next place, the next phase, and far away from where I am.  And then, to my rescue, my dogs gave me one of those looks; you know, the kind that says "Mommy please take us outside so we can pee on trees and chase frogs."

I excused myself from the conversation that had seemingly peaked in intensity: our present set of circumstances all studied carefully under a microscope.  It's not so bad to take an inventory of what is, I thought to myself as I hooked the leashes to my dog's collars and stepped outside.  Yeah, it's natural to take stock of your life every so often.  

STOP! BEWARE!! Something rattled in the nearby bushes.  It was so dark outside last night, you couldn't see but ten feet in front of you.  Ok, time to take a deep breath.  The dogs promptly investigated the sound and chased the little unidentified woodland creature away.

And then, almost as if there was a flashing caution sign going off in my head, I reminded myself of the vitality of awareness.  Self awareness and the wherewithal to take stock of your surroundings is something that is left by the wayside when getting overly fixated on the road ahead. What's next has a way of clouding the simple beauty of what is.

I kicked myself for getting caught up and overly anxious for all that is yet to come.  Just BE WHERE YOU ARE!!! 

Beware of the pitfalls, the hang-ups and the self defeating habits of the past.  Be aware of the actual state of what is and how far you've come.

And just enjoy the given circumstances, whatever they may be.

I looked up at that moment at the rich blanket of stars that engulfed the night sky.  It was sublime and perfect.  And I decided that for as long as I am here, I need to just be where I am...

Manhattan may be next on my agenda and that is exciting and nerve racking all at the same time.  But, I know one thing for certain; the bright lights of the big city are undoubtedly beautiful, but cannot compare to the spectacular natural wonder of the starry night sky that I stood beneath last night.  Beneath the twinkling stars, I surrendered to the present tense and was awestruck by the beauty of nature.

And for that realization, I am aware now, more than ever, of how lucky I am to be right where I am today.  Everything is unfolding as it should.  Perhaps the daydreams and 'what if' scenarios are all around you for the taking, if you are calmly persistent, humble and patient, thoughtful and utterly aware of all that God has given.

There is beauty everywhere.

Today:

Starry Night

1/2 oz Jagermeister Liqueur
1/2 oz Goldschlager Cinnamon Schnapps

2-3 oz Red Bull 

Take A Shot! 

The Quitter Jitters

There is a little bully who sits on your left shoulder.  He antagonizes your every move and delights in your demise; he's your nemesis.  I have lived with my own little bully for thirty years and I can promise you one thing: he isn't going anywhere anytime soon.  No sir, he is quite comfortable right where he is. But to be fair, I have had my share of obstacles; and the little nagging bully sat upon my shoulder and delighted in my defeat...

First it was gymnastics. I was just a little kid looking for a way to kill time.  I wanted to have something of my own to get involved with while my brothers were busy excelling in their various sports and activities.  I had mastered a cart wheel and the balance beam but thats about it.  But I was fairly determined to stick with my newfound extracurricular activity until the day something truly traumatizing happened: I was trampled on the trampoline.

A stampede of children big and small were all bouncing up and down and having a blast.  But then, to my horror, the instructor had us all run from one side of the bouncing tarp to the other in unison.  This wasn't such a bad idea, until the moment I tripped, fell flat on my face as a herd of energetic wannabe gymnasts ran right across me.   Not one of them stopped to help me up.  I was squashed: gymnasium roadkill.

Well, as embarrassed as I was, it was even more embarrassing to face everyone and declare myself a quitter.  Gymnastics was not my thing.  I sat in the car and tried to figure out what to do next...

Maybe I ought to try Karate... Yeah, that would be kind of cool! That way if I get trampled, I can at least defend myself...

I suited up and tied the crisp white belt around my waist.  I felt like a ninja and looked like a pint sized badass.  It was awesome... for a couple weeks anyway...  It was another day of practice when we were paired off to spar.  Okay, let's do this!  I turned to face my opponent: a strawberry blonde boy who was probably a good three inches shorter.  We bowed to acknowledge the match, and then we faced off.  As I extended my right arm to mimic the action of a sturdy blow to the forehead, I overshot it a little and knocked the kid square between the eyes.  There was a collective gasp in the room as the boy burst into tears.

When he removed his hands from the spot where I punched him, a small indentation was revealed.  I immediately recognized the mark.  Ah crap, I forgot to remove my ring! The karate master noticed it right away.  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit... 

I was in my very own version of Big Trouble in Little China.  The master went to retrieve his bamboo stick: you know, the one he whacks you with when you've really screwed up and pissed him off.  It was at precisely this moment when he approached me with that stick, that I promptly decided that my days as the next karate kid were over! I QUIT!!!

I never looked back...

Figure Skating sounds like fun... I'll try that! The outfits were way cuter than the boring white robes of my former karate days.  I had a hot pink spandex unitard.  It had black geometric shapes and was totally 90's coolness.

I was really good at the skating forwards part, and even a few small spins.  But then it was time to practice jumps.  And let me just say, jumping on ice is not easy.  Falling on ice is frosty coated misery.  How many times do you have to eat it before landing on your feet??

It didn't take long to figure out that I was not meant to be the next Michelle Kwan.  I skated my way right out of there.

At this point, it seemed that the only thing I was any good at was quitting.  The little bully sat on my shoulder, my earlobe as his punching bag, tormenting my failed attempts: quitter, quitter!

At this point, I must tell you that I eventually did land upon a sport where I found my stride, excelled and didn't quit. (But that is another story for another day).

Back to the tales of my tormented youth... Yes indeed, I felt like a giant loser, an epic failure, and above all else: a serial quitter.

It's been many years since then and I have come to realize one of the most valuable lessons of my life; Quitting something because it hurts doesn't make you a failure.  I would argue that in some ways, calling it quits can be one of the most defining aspects of your character.  It is important to recognize your limitations and set boundaries accordingly.

I did not intend to punch that boy in the forehead in Karate.  It was an honest mistake: an accident.  But the master wanted to teach me a lesson so that I might not repeat that mistake again.  He had every intention of striking me with the bamboo stick that day: but I knew a little something about self defense that he didn't see coming.  I understood that sometimes, you just have to walk away.

I didn't want to fight.  I didn't want to fall.  I didn't want to figure skate.  I didn't want to fail...

After many years of self discipline and care, I do know where I excel and where I do not.  And I am grateful for the times that I had the courage to take a stand and walk away: even if it meant I was a quitter.

Quitting the wrong things, opens up the doors for the right things.

It took a long time to develop this perspective.  For many years I feared myself to be a quitter; a failure. But I see now the strength and courage it takes to know when it's time to call it quits.  It takes faith: to believe that the right thing will come along and in that, you'll shine!

In two days, I will be released from the bar where I have served my time this summer.  And quitting this job was not a decision that was necessarily easy to make.  I have what I call quitter jitters.

It's the kind of cold feet where you wonder where to go next.  Another bar? Another city or state?
I may not know right now.  And although it is unnerving to not know for sure where I am headed, I am armed with the satisfaction of walking away from something that ultimately hadn't made me feel very good inside.

Knowing when to quit something that isn't serving you doesn't make you a failure, it just makes you human.


Today:

The Russian Standard Gold

2 1/2 oz Vodka
1 oz Ginger Liqueur
 Sake and strain into a martini glass

Rim glass with edible gold dust! 

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The Loneliest Number

If life is funny, then love is hysterical.  And if one is the loneliest number, then at one point or another, we're all kind of screwed!

I've been thinking a lot lately about perfect pairings: salt and pepper, wine and cheese, mom and dad.  They go together in seemingly perfect harmony, bringing out the finest, most delicate qualities in their counterpart. When I stop and think about it, the prospect of complementing another human being (for eternity) sounds a little daunting.  For as much as you might compliment one person, how can you be sure they will truly do the same for you?  And if one is the loneliest number, then why do we try so hard to find the one?? Chew on that for a moment!  

I've been on my own a little while now.  I'd like to think it's not so bad really.  Table for one please... yup, that's right... it's just me. 

Searching for just the right one of anything sounds a little exhausting.  It's difficult enough to find a pair of jeans that fit just right, let alone if I had to find a pair to fit me for the rest of my life.  Yikes. They'd better be comfortable, durable, well made, and above all else, flexible.  

Like most people, I tend to go through phases. One day, out of nowhere, I suddenly loved green olives.  I hated them my entire life, until one day, out of the blue, I decided to give them another try.  And just like that: POOF! Sparks were flying and violins were playing as I savored the little green olive, as if for the very first time.  From that moment on, I couldn't imagine my life without them.  They are freaking delicious!

Same thing happened with mushrooms, hot yoga, and drinking sake...What the heck??!! 

Last night, as I leaned up against the wall of a moderately crowded bar, I looked around and saw an army of singles.  It was so apparent who was flying solo in fact, that the scattered couplings jumped out of the mix and were quite easy to identify.  Pairings of all shapes and sizes huddled together, lost in their own little eight ball, corner pocket of love.  Some looked like they had indeed found the one, while others were definitely trying to squeeze into a pair of jeans that clearly no longer fit.  It was amusing to listen to one couples' story of how they fell in love: after a drunken night at Taco Bell, waiting for a ride and asking for directions. To each their own I guess. 

But they seemed genuinely happy and it stuck with me all night. 

Looking around the bar I realized something profound, I may be just one, but I believe that is the right one for right now.  And if one is in fact the loneliest number, well maybe that isn't so bad. 

Here are some perks of being a party of one.  Sleeping diagonally across the bed.  Not having to sort the socks in the laundry.  Knowing exactly when your coffee creamer is about to run out.  Scoring the perfect seat in a crowded movie theater.  Going to a book store and losing track of time.  Taking spontaneous last minute trips.  Easier access to emergency boats, exits and escapes.  Lots and lots of time to write about random things, like a newfound love affair with green olives and late night fast food encounters.  

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that one doesn't seem like the loneliest number after all.  I would argue instead that the loneliest number you'll ever have to face, is the one you haven't learned how to be alone with when you look in the mirror.  

Fall in love with that one first, and you might never be lonely again.  And any addition from there? Well that's just math made in heaven. 

Today:

Raspberry Martini

1 1/2 oz of Grey Goose Vodka

1/2 oz of Chambord Liqueur

1/2 oz of Pama Liqueur

Splash of cranberry

Shake and strain into a martini glass

Flying Solo.

  

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.