I'm baaaccckkkk ....

Go ahead. Take your best shot. Swat me. I've been a naughty blogger. I've been an absent landlord. I've been too busy to write. I've been going on adventures. I've been making excuses.

To be honest, I've been teaching at a magnet school for the arts here in this fine city, and when I teach, I give my energy to that. I find it's hard to write my own shit when I'm teaching other people to write. So I'm enjoying my time teaching creative writing to high school kids, but I've had a lot going on and teaching -- lesson planning, showing up, lesson planning -- has taken up the time I usually spend writing.

And then last night somebody set my neighbor's front stairs on fire, and I called 911 and then I was out there in the street talking to a police officer and some very hot firefighters .... Who can write when there are hot firefighters flames?

Yeah, it's just another fucking excuse. Ask any writer: we're full of shit excuses. (Although the fire really did happen.)

I'm changing my ways though .... well, as of this Friday, November 1, I'm changing my ways. I'll be going crazy posting every day during the month of November for NaBloPoMo. And believe me, this will be the craziest month ever for me to post every day. You'll find out why soon enough.

For tonight though, I just wanted to check in and remind you that I'm still around. And I wanted to tell you a short story about something that happened earlier tonight.

Tonight was my night with my granddaughter Coraline, but a good friend called and said he wanted to come over and talk to me about something. I told him to come on over. Coraline and I had just finished making some deviled eggs, which we do almost every week now.

So he and Coraline were eating deviled eggs and we were talking, and I don't really even remember what we were talking about, but I said, "Well, yeah. You're like a brother to me ...."

And he said something like, "You've never said that before. That means a lot to me." And he walked across the kitchen and hugged me. He may have been a tiny bit teary.

I said, "I've probably told at least 25 people that you're like a brother to me. I've never said that to you?"

He said, "No, I don't think you ever have. But I'll take it. That means a lot to me."

So my message tonight is this: Just fucking tell people how you feel about them. I know. It's trite. You've scrolled by that message on afuckinghundred Victorian greeting cards on Facebook. I'm telling you again: Say it.

You may think people know how you feel about them, but unless you come right out and say the words, they're only making assumptions. And they may assume wrong, or they may not assume enough. Put it into words. It's important.

Sure, my friend knows I love him. He knows I'd do almost anything for him. But I really do think of him as a brother. I think of him as family. And even though we've talked about a lot of deep shit over the years, I guess I hadn't ever told him just how very special he was to me.

He deserves to know.

So don't hold that shit in. Come out and say it. In fact, I challenge you to tell one person today how you honestly feel about him or her. Just one.

And then if you get hit by a fucking bus 20 minutes later, you'll leave that one loose end tied up in a heart-shaped bow.

Unless, of course, it's somebody you hate whom you decide to tell how you really feel, and then you can die knowing you got in one last kick to the groin, and seriously? That might feel almost as good. Because seriously? I can think of a few people in my life who are like the creepy uncle I'd like to kick in the balls or the alcoholic nephew I'd like to cut out of the will or the lying ex I'd like to .....

I think I've digressed .....

You have your orders. Tell somebody how you feel. Report back in the comments below. I'm sitting here with a box of wine and a bowl of buttered popcorn waiting to hear your stories. Don't disappoint me. A girl could get fat waiting.

Filling the Bucket

I promised to write about dancing* on the pole Friday night and so I will, but I have to tell you, my ass is dragging tonight. I packed way more socializing into one weekend than a girl should and then some. So much that I turned down a dinner invitation tonight so I could come home and take a nap, and this is not normal behavior for me. Other people can't keep up with me, but I usually can. (Maybe I need to see a doctor. ) But I'm tired in a good way. Tired in a way that filled my bucket. Tired because my peeps surrounded me this weekend with love and support and food and dancing and laughter. So much that I couldn't do it all like I usually do. So much it was like  Woodstock, only without the mud. So if you're only interested in the pole, skip to the next post. I'm typing though and I want to say something about the rest of the weekend, about how very blessed I am by the people in my life, if only because the Universe gave me a great big old reminder that I probably needed as much as the next person does.

Example of a Vision Board

Friday night I spent a rare evening with one of my besties, The Hot Italian. We're in touch almost every day, but we're both too busy to get together in person very often. I had planned to go to an annual blues fest in Hippie Town, one that I haven't missed in years, but I took the opportunity to haul my guitar over to her house to jam and read tarot cards**. Only I forgot my cards, and we didn't get the guitars out to blend harmonies on even one Indigo Girls song. We just talked. We talked about dreams versus the illusion of security, taking leaps of faith, careers versus doing what we love, what we're missing versus what we have. She encouraged me to create a vision board and she'll be doing one too. I have to admit, I'm not a follower of the law of attraction movement, but I like cutting pictures out and gluing them on mat board, so I'll probably do one just to see if anything surprises me. Maybe I'll talk more about that in another post. I left her house about 11:00, but .... more on Friday night in the next post.

Saturday my soul sister, Colorado, came with her daughter to spend the day. We used to see each other almost every day, and we had some wild adventures....until she got married, moved 60 miles away, joined the corporate world and became domesticated. (OK, and really happy, but whatevs.) We don't see each other that often any more, so a visit is cause for celebration. Except, we didn't do anything exciting--drove around a neighborhood I'm thinking about moving to, shopped the downtown Goodwill, and ate lunch at a little deli. And talked a lot. It was wonderful. Even though she's just down the road, things have changed and I miss her. The first time we walked out of a grad school rhetoric class and introduced ourselves, we bonded forever, in spite of my extreme extroversion and her puzzling introversion. Somehow the mix made for some crazy adventures and stories. And somehow she showed up Saturday just when I needed to be reminded of who I am.

After Colorado left, I headed over to a porkfest in the backyard of some friends and spent the evening eating every kind of yummy food and getting many hugs and kisses and laughs and way too much talk about my sex life and....need I say it? Pork. Pork loin on the grill with apple BBQ sauce and smoked pork chops and tables loaded with sides and many desserts. And wonderful friends who are determined to get me laid properly and soon...and often. And who want to get out on the bike trail with me and sing karaoke and who praised my milk licker. Yes, I took a mason jar of milk licker and traded my host, Angry Badger, what remained in the jar for a leftover smoked pork chop. I planned so many adventures in those few hours, I'd be busy for the next five years if I did it all.

While I was there, my son's girlfriend texted me and said she'd left some rum cake on my front porch. Mmmm. It was delicious with a glass of cold, raw milk. She's the one who got me on the pole, so more about her later.

Today, Sunday, I changed plans I'd made weeks ago and still had a great day. I signed up for a historic three-hour bike ride around the city about two months ago. I was excited, and unfortunately I told someone I was close to at the time about it. But when I looked at the Facebook invitation to get the details and saw the RSVPs that had appeared after mine, I decided it wouldn't be much fun to go on that ride after all. I just don't dig mean people. So instead I agreed to be an extra in a movie. I hit a different bike trail with The Diplomat that ended  at a local theater (where I performed in my first play last fall) and did the movie shoot instead. Again, some good theater friends were there and I met some new people. I'm sure it was more fun than the other bike ride would have been, and I left with a tub of hummus. And got in a 13-mile ride.

And then this afternoon I went to a performance of Harvey. I haven't written here about my theater experiences this past year, but I will eventually. It's so much fun to go to plays and know several people in the cast. I have performed with three actors in today's play, been directed by the director, and performed on that stage. Again, it's like going home or to Cheers where everybody knows your name, and the people get to be like family. After the play though, I'd had enough and I begged off dinner and came home.....And finally I sat down to write. I started to write about dancing on the pole, but I wrote this instead.

I know this sounds like just another busy weekend, and so it was. I'm sorry I didn't make the blues fest, and I really wanted to go on that group bike ride, but I'm not complaining. When I look back at all the people who shared these two days with me, and I think about how much I love them and how much love I receive from them....I almost can't hold it all in my heart. My heart has broken in a couple of different ways this summer. The birth of my granddaughter broke it as it stretched to receive her and this new incarnation of my daughter as a mother. That kind of breaking, overwhelming as it is, brings unfathomable joy. And then there was other damage that is still healing, still raw no matter how ready I am to move on. And with both kinds of heart-break I know my peeps are there to hold me together and either celebrate with me or talk some shit in my defense...they've got my back and my front. Oh, but you wanted to read about the pole. Next post......with a photo. Tomorrow. I promise.

* I know how to dance, so trust me when I say I use the word "dancing" to describe something that doesn't look like me dancing.

** Yes, I do readings. So does she. It's not expensive and it's worth it.