I Lava Closing the Book

This weekend I'm celebrating an anniversary of sorts.

Maybe a birthday?  I dunno, how cheesy is it to say I came back to life.

But to the friends and family who saw me barely make it through the year leading up to last October they might not think it's an overstatement.  I was hollow, hulled out.  I started this blog because I needed somewhere to save the good things so that I could recall them when things were dark. 

I don't actually remember how that all felt.  I know it was there, I have tangible proof of emotional distress, but I can't for the life of me recall what a burden so heavy that it caused me to stoop when I stood was like. 

Last October 20th I sent an e-mail that ended a very bad friendship/relationship/thing for good.  I started using EFT to move past the emotional damage and really worked intensively on rebuilding my self esteem.  It's been a long year since last October.  Sometimes situations feel weird that wouldn't have caused a problem before, I'm regaining feeling and have all of these phantom limbs. 

I've learned how to dream again.  Every corner has another idea or project hiding behind it waiting for me, giggling because it knows I'll be all over it as soon as it jumps out at me.  Last year I thought I had plateaued.  I honestly believed that I had already reached my peak and I would never do anything above what I had already done.  Today I can see clearly that you only reach your peak when you stop climbing.  I wanted to try comedy or join a band and this year I've done both in one move.  I've tried zine writing and video editing and swing dance.  I've become a much better mom.  I've taken the quotation marks out of the word "art." 

I'm still very much a work in progress.  Self worth, body image and all that jazz has been pretty hit and miss but I'm working on my inner monologue and trying to stop negative thoughts before they manifest in negative action.  When I think about what I should do I don't dwell on how I haven't accomplished it yet but instead work on a plan to make it happen.  It's not perfect and my plans usually end up in a dead end of dark chocolate peanut butter cups but any action is preferable to ruminating in the fetal position. 

I am in good hands, though.  The same friends and family members who guided me through before are still my loudest cheerleaders.  I also have been absolutely blessed with a partner who sees my potential more clearly than I do but also understands that I am still recovering from a whole-body heartache.  I'm grateful that we found each other at a time when I was ready to accept such an enveloping and encompassing love because he has really become my quiet harbor and I know I'm safe, no matter what vestigial emotional responses come up unexpectedly.   I'm thankful for all of the foundational work I did all year- hard and trying as it was, to bring me to a place where I could have such a supportive and positive love as his without running and running fast. 


Progress has been made even though sometimes I still passively let things slip by.  I am seeing opportunities and going for them- in just over a week I'll be starting a new job with an organization that will feed into my passion I feel for my hometown in a major way.  This is a dream job and last year I never would have thought I should even bother throwing a resume their way.

So with all of this positive change I am glad to close this chapter of my blogging life.  In the near future I'll be announcing my new blog and casting my net of LAVA even wider.  Thanks for taking this journey with me and I'll see you in my new blog home!

I Lava When It All Makes Sense

Three weeks ago my schedule dramatically changed.  I went from being under-employed (but working three jobs, strangely enough...) to working full time, as well as beginning my first semester back in school in three years.  Basically, my brain's been in a tailspin for the past few weeks.

One of the classes I'm taking is Assertiveness Training.  I've discovered that I'm ridiculously, self-sabotagingly passive in weird ways that I couldn't name before.  It's been on my mind a lot lately, so last night on Twitter and Facebook I posted a revelation: "I am not ugly. I am not inept. I am a woman with viable talent and interests who will take this world by storm, by Jove!" and the response was very interesting.  

I had a handful of people think I had actually been told these things by someone, several "likes," "favorites" and "retweets" and messages from friends thanking me for posting it.  I have a tendency to think I am a sham, that when people realize that I'm actually an idiot they're going to stop caring.  I work extra hard to hide that I'm incredibly insecure, I'll check spelling and etymology before using words and at work I've found that I push myself very hard so that my supervisors won't suddenly realize that I am not qualified to even walk through the doors of the business.  I finally took a break today, my first one all week.  I don't want anyone to see me sitting and not working in case they don't realize I'm on a break and think I'm slacking off.

Apparently this is extreme passivity.  

Last night I shared all of this with my boyfriend and it felt like I finally was able to grasp a solid reason for why I do things they way I do.  It's been frustratingly like one of those dreams where you can see the silhouettes but can't focus on what things are, and now I have a name for my behavior.  With a clear idea of what causes my responses I can begin to work on moving past my passivity, start taking credit for the things I'm good at instead of shrugging them off and learn how to be comfortable with my abilities.  

I am tired of being my own harshest critic. I will no longer be a victim of my passive nature and I am going to work hard to see myself as I really am, a woman of action.

I do not lava misuse of power for personal gain.

I'm a very proud third generation Central High School alumnus.  I love the school district pretty passionately and I'm always the first to chime in and defend her honor when someone might be slamming CUSD.  I may or may not have been predisposed to fall in love with the Giants when I realized baseball didn't suck because I liked my alma mater's colors so much. 

But there's some real horseshit happening right now in the district.  Looks like Superintendent Mike Berg is getting significant raise for himself as well as four assistant superintendents, which takes money from the general fund- where classroom supplies come from.  The schools are already having to cut way back on supplies as it is.

You know me, I don't get too political very often, and it never comes out on my blog- anything where numbers and money are a huge part of the issue at hand make me very uncomfortable- however, I couldn't let this just sit.  I lava my school district too much.

Please follow this link to read up on it for yourself (read the comments too, they're very telling about how disgusting the whole situation is) and sign the petition to revoke the Superintendent raises. 

And don't worry, I promise I'll be back to my usual blogoptimism in no time!

I Lava Mary-Kate and my Fast-Pass to Hell

Sacrilegious?  I'd like to think it's sacrilicious.

I'm sure you all remember my tribute to Mandy Moore.  What?  No?  Damn.

Well, I've done it again.  This time it solved two problems.  The other telephone nook in my house needed love.  It looked like shit because it had become the catchall for bills, photos I didn't know what to do with, Applebees gift cards... you name it, I had it tucked away in there.

And of course, I had to find a home for my Saint Mary-Kate print from Aurora Lady.

I can't be the only one with the whole "What do I do with this dang art?" dilemma. Like, I order it, I sit waiting for the mail every day, I get it and then it sits because I keep thinking "Oh, Imma get a frame next week." and then the frames all suck because I don't want my beloved piece of artwork to be stuck in something bo-o-o-o-ring or not complimentary for the rest of it's life, right?  So it sits.  I did this with the I Love You Gala Darling original I got from Aurora Lady as well, and it seriously took 2 months to find a great frame.

So anyway, I've had her sitting for almost a month now and enough is enough, you know?  I'd hate to see this become a really dumb cycle to get into with really great art.

So I made an altar for her.  Duh.

 

What I did (and you can do too!):

•  Placed the print in a sheet protector to keep it safe!
• Cut out the shape of my telephone nook with a piece of cardboard- I actually used the backing from another print I purchased last year- a Nikki McClure for my kitchen.
• Decoupaged the heck outta it.  For this I used all of the cosmetics packaging I haven't had the heart to throw away and some Mod-Podge and glitter.
• Glued the sheet protector to the cardboard collage of awesomeness
• Threw a few Mary-Kate quotes on there for good measure
• Hot glued three of my cutest cosmetics boxes to the backing for added dimension
• Put Aurora Lady's Cathedral of Rebellion buttons on a ribbon and hung it just outside of the nook. (I got the ribbon from the handle of the Victoria's Secret bag I used to line the cardboard with before I started making the collage)
• Printed a picture of MK and Mod-Podged it onto a prayer candle.  Added Glitter.
• Lit the candle and thanked St. Mary-Kate for the Olsenboye dress I was wearing today.

...aaaand for good measure, one more look at my Mandy Moore altar.

Please note that Ryan Adams is under her skirt.  Where he belongs.

It's probably good that I only have one more feasible altar spot left in my house because I'm pretty sure I've offended Catholics and celebs alike with my antics.  And I kinda lava the hell outta that.

I Lava Bicycles

 May is Bike Month.

Photo by Jennifer Emerling

These days there's a month for everything, so I've always blown it off.  Whatever, dude.  I hadn't ridden a bike since I was twelve and the task of getting started now seemed pretty daunting. 

But dang, I've always been jealous of the self-satisfied look on the faces of every bike-to-worker.  The tan and muscled legs of the girls who ride their bikes to the bar.  The cute baskets, the excuse to wear leggings with everything, the ability to cut the umbilical cord to the gas pump, or at least fray it a little bit.  Like I said, hella jelly.

But I have kids.  I live in the country.  I can't ride a bike.  I'm never gonna be able to get over my fear of riding in traffic.  I sunburn.  I'm so out of shape.  I don't even know how to begin.

That's what I bitterly thought to myself every time I saw another cool girl ride by on her cool bike. 

When May was approaching this year I really didn't want to have to pretend not to care anymore.  I asked my dad to fix up a bike I'd had in my garage for a few years that I found in a trash heap.  It was a cute bike.  I used it once in a photo shoot.  Ridden it?  Never.

Escorted by an experienced cool-bike-person who was someone I trusted to see me ride in the way that a baby deer walks, I tried to ride to work.  Tried being the operative term here.  He ended up swapping bikes with me halfway there because it was SO IMPOSSIBLE to ride.  Like, it didn't coast at all and I don't even know enough about bikes to tell you why else it sucked, but it sucked.  No wonder it was in a trash heap.

The next day my mom offered to buy me a new bike to avoid my hardheaded "Gonna do this no matter what what" nature getting me into trouble and broken down... probably at the bottom of an irrigation canal.  I told you, I live in the country.  

If I hadn't had the bike from hell experience the day before my choice at the bike shop would have been very different.  Because my wrists and forearms hurt from the awkward angle of the handlebars, that was a major factor.  It was also way too small for me.  My mom, knowing I'm vain beyond belief, told the bike shop cool-guy I am really image conscious and I quickly cut her off saying "I need something really functional and it needs to get me to and from work without sucking."  

My first bicycling breakthrough, omigod, I ignored my instinct to go for cute or cool. One day on a bike and I'd already become a better person.

The shop had a lot of small bikes, but only two or three medium sized bikes to choose from, so I ended up choosing a comfort bike.  It can handle the unkempt and potholed country roads- my main concern.  It felt good as I rode around the parking lot.  I kind of fell in love a little with the smoothness of pure human power causing me to move. 

That afternoon I went on my first ride by myself out to Kearney Park and I officially became a bike girl.  The way things smell sweet and you can hear birds and wind and hearing my breathing as I'd push myself harder and faster and then coasting and inhaling deeply while the sun hit my arms and face.  

I took a BFF pic with it while I enjoyed my reaching my destination on my first ride to Kearney Park.

That was 3 weeks ago I've ridden 214 miles since.  It's felt amazing.  Even riding on busy streets doesn't intimidate me.  Much. 

I doubt I'll ever be a cool bike girl, but it's always good to have a goal, and anyway I'm head over heels in lava with riding my bike.

Happy bike month, y'all.  If you're not on a bike yet, your excuses are irrelevant.  Get on one.

I Lava 420

Record scratch... What?!

For those of you who know me, you know that I can't even comfortably hold a cigarette for a friend as they duck inside to get something, let alone be here late into the annual stoner holiday proclaiming undying LAVA for it.

So lemme 'splain.

I don't smoke, I actually woke up thinking today was a normal day until about 8 AM when after being at a friend's house at 5:30 AM for a run I got onto Facebook and saw the bazillion 420 posts.  Oh, right.  I didn't think stoners were even UP at 8 AM!

But I also noticed that my dearest friend Aurora Lady had posted a link to her blog in which she had interviewed me about my first zine,  My Drunk Year. 

I was excited, so far my zine had only been distributed to a handful of close friends who dealt with the wreck that me as I trudged through the experience that led to writing the zine.  The strong response from the people who had read it started to give me a feeling that maybe what I thought was just typewriter therapy actually had a little weight to it.  Then a few nights ago while talking to my amazing friend Yvonne about how many people we know have some substance dependency or another I jokingly said "I should just become an addiction counselor so at least I can get paid for my overwhelming desire to save the world." and then it hit me.  How have I not been doing that all along?

So without really remembering that today would be the day Aurora Lady would be posting the interview, I decided I'd go in to the counseling office at Fresno City College this afternoon.  The timing was just really amazing.  I sold my first zine to a complete stranger in a completely different state, I've had a lot of amazing discussions all day long with friends who I never would have thought would be even remotely interested in reading about my experience and then I found out that 10 classes, or about 33 units more and I would be able to get another associates degree and have my AS in Alcohol and Drug Abuse Counseling.  So you know, some people get doctorates in the amount of time it's taken for me to figure out a career path.  I'm gonna have a wall full of associates degrees, but whatever.  They're like the Pokemon of the academic world.

As I was at the post office mailing out the zine and choking back the tears at how amazing it felt to finally have some sort of direction, it struck me as ironically funny that the day I'd set the wheels in motion to try my hand at a career in counseling happens to be the high holiday among stoners.  Synchronicity.  You know I LAVA the heck outta that, and I'll never forget everything that led me to what I'm hoping will be exactly what I'm called to do on this day.

I Lava Baseball

Duh.  

I'd be a fool not to.

I am so excited about the start of Baseball season.  It's this swallowing-whole where you can't walk into a restaurant or bar without some game, somewhere playing and everyone is wearing their team's colors and suddenly sports radio is interesting again.  The twitter shit talking, the real life shit talking.  Having common ground with my really sensible and ridiculously brilliant sister.  

And of course, the game itself.  Smart, emotionally involving, impressive and easily accessible. 

Most people are lifelong fans, they started following a team as a kid with their parents or friends and have stuck by that. I'm still in my infancy as a baseball fan, this will be my third season of giving a damn.  

I fought it, my ex husband would dominate the TV several nights a week and I'd groan loudly, complain that it was stupid and go read Twilight or write love letters to Hanson.  But then something clicked.  I think it was the human aspect of the game- hearing an interesting story about a player during a lull in the game that made me realize that baseball has some fascinating people in it, not just meathead athletes. (And oh how I've tried in vain since this epiphany to see football players this way.  Do they have personalities?)  So I started watching with him passively.  

It was early in the season- late April or early May, and one of the pitchers wasn't doing so well, lots of people were questioning his "stuff" and I couldn't help but be drawn into the articles and speculation about what he'd need to do to pull out of his slump.  It became this new thing where I felt that if he couldn't be as great as everyone said he was then I'd feel somehow let down.  I have no clue how that line of thinking worked, but I paid close attention and started to recognize that pitching wasn't just throwing a ball.  What the heck, there's actual mechanics to it? 

Then I started to learn the game bit by bit, and started getting stressed out and tense in all the right moments.  The first time I whooped loudly without realizing it was coming out I knew I'd graduated and I'd be a fan of the sport for life.  The first professional sport I've ever cared about.  

I am obviously years behind everyone on baseball know-how.  I don't have a broad grasp of baseball history or my team's past that I can recall as easily as my own birthday like everyone else I know, but I'm a devoted disciple.  Watching hours and hours of Ken Burns: Baseball, reading books so I can watch the game better and catch the little nuances that I've been missing in my newbie state...all of that good stuff.  If I'm going to enjoy something I want to know as much as possible.  I am still pathetic at talking smack, but my friends Yvonne and Chris have been very generous with their time to help me understand that fine art as well. 

This year I'm hoping to make it to my first major league game- I went all the time last year to the Fresno Grizzlies games because Chukchansi Park is very close to where I live (hey-o for free fireworks shows if people keep their trees trimmed!) but I still haven't been to see my team up close and personal.  I might cry if I don't get to.

I Lava that I was wrong all along about baseball, not only is it a fantastic way to completely lose myself for half of the year but it also proves once again that nothing is set in stone.  If I was wrong about hating all sports, what else could I be missing out on?

I Lava My Veganniversary

Well, folks!  I'm turning one as a vegan!

A very serious meat-free burger at Native Foods in LA.

Last year at this time I blogged about how I had made it through my first year as a vegetarian and I resolved that I'd set aside one day a week to eat vegan.  And then I just kept eating that way.  When I checked in in June about it I felt great.

My amazing friend Aurora went vegan too- actually she's the one who got me on the vegan bandwagon.  She was even more hardcore though, she wasn't even a vegetarian beforehand and she quit cold Tofurkey!  It was really great having someone else doing it with me in those fledgeling days of not knowing what was and wasn't vegan, and if it was malt-o-meal and contained no animal products was it secretly not vegan somehow?

So here I am, a year of being the world's most hated kind of eater under my belt.  And boy, do people really hate vegans.  Aside from the bacon jokes and the "eat a steak!" jabs, there are the "Well, what KIND of vegan are you?" questions and the pro-meat pictures that a few friends post on my facebook wall.

Eating a vegan diet has been easy in comparison to the magnifying glass that I feel like I'm under as an "out" vegan.  The hardest part has been being pressed to define my choice all the time, when the reason changes from week to week.  The important thing is that I've not wavered in my desire to follow an animal-free diet.  I vacillate from the "ew" factor of the meat and dairy industry to animal rights issues, then to environmental reasons and most frequently finding myself agreeing the most with the health benefits. I try not to be an asshole about it, but by saying I'm a vegan I already am one.  I've accepted that's the perception, and I even ordered "Vegan Asshole" business cards for my twitter handle. 

The focus on what I eat has made a big difference in how I spend my money when choosing food.  I've had the shift in mentality from buying the cheapest thing on the shelf to buying items that cost less on a larger scale.  When possible I buy organic now, I read every label I come into contact with so I know the ins and outs of my pantry and I'm really shifting to buying more in-season locally grown produce.  It's pretty major.  I remember when my children's father and I went on our first grocery shopping trip and we argued in the canned goods aisle over where to buy the brand name kidney beans or the store brand and I was fighting for that 11 cent difference.  Now I'd be glaring at the labels on both and looking for added preservatives and who knows what else they might sneak in.

I also like that there are loopholes though.  I like chocolate.  I like junk food, and while i don't eat a lot  it definietly helps when the PMS is getting the best of me.  Little angels sang and flew around the room and rays of lights were everywhere when I learned that Oreos are vegan.  Not healthy by any means but sometimes a hidden cache of chocolate sandwich cookies are absolute necessity.  I don't eat the whole tray of them anymore like I used to.  That's something, right?

 I've been toying with the idea of trying a raw diet, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet.  In the grand tradition (started a year ago) I'll be adopting a day a week to declare as a raw day so I can learn the preparation methods and all of that good stuff.  I'm choosing hump day because I like to put two words together and make magic, and Rawednesday is too good to pass up.  Plus I have my swing lessons on Wednesday nights after work and I always go to our local raw cafe, Revive, anyway on those nights.

So here's to my health, I lava being a vegan!

I Lava My Home.

It took me almost a year to start claiming my home as my own.  

Moving back in meant that I was occupying a space that previously belonged to two people.  I didn't have it in me to decorate. 

Since October I have been working hard to infuse my personality into my living space.  It's not perfect, see I'm broke.  New furniture isn't an option at all.  But I do have spray paint, scissors, hot glue, photoshop, tape, lace and lots of creativity.  Here are a few of the ways I've been decorating my home on the cheap.

 

I've had this ugly ass mirror forever, but when I painted it blue it turned really cute.

 My dad is one of the coolest people on Earth, and also very charismatic, so him on a hypnotic swirl seemed pretty apropos. I'd love to see this 10 feet tall and on the side of a building Banksy style.

My couch belonged to my grandpa and when he moved I got it.  It was old then, it's older now.  There was this perma-dustline on the back.  Instead of wasting energy scrubbing it off, I painted on a tightrope walker.  I think it's obvious that I watched the Banksy movie.

Something that's really important to me is honoring childrens' artwork, and these old window frames are perfect whale frames.

 A Mandy Moore altar on the little telephone shelf in the hallway is a fun take on my obsession with her career.  Note that Ryan Adams is beneath her, as he should be!

A garland of keys (I used these for my Christmas Tree and loved them too much to put in storage) a framed chalkboard, pics of my besties, a pinup and polka dotted sheets mean that even when no one is in my room there's still magic being made.

I'm a bit of a beet fanatic.  The taste, the color, they're just so great.  So I painted one.  Also, my mom made some BADASS pink burlap curtains that make my living room pink in the morning light.

My ex left this behind.  I've adapted it to my tastes.

Even Justin Bieber loves my decor!

 Juice just tastes better when it's also part of a teenaged fantasy love triangle.

Homes don't have to be boring and I'm pretty sure that mine will only get more colorful.  I may be single forever as a result, but dang, I'm happy.

I Lava CSA's

Okay. Let's be frank.

I'm about two Guinness-labeled pint glasses deep into a box of Big House Red wine as I write this, don't judge.  

I kind of sometimes treat my life like a video game, odd for someone who really sucks at video games that don't involve a screen moving forward for you, or a princess that floats for a few seconds when you push the right buttons.  But alas, I'm not actually perfect, I just look the part and so I compensate for this fact by leveling myself up when I do things that I consider major.

Like I leveled up this fall when I commissioned some artwork from Aurora Lady to give to my mom on her birthday.  

And I leveled up by having my hair done by someone professional, not by Feria. 

Well folks, looks like I"ve totally leveled up again.  I finally ordered a produce box from one of the local CSA's.  CSA stands not for Cheese Stands Alone, but instead for Community Supported Agriculture.  CSA's operate based on the people in the -taadaa- community buying in and becoming part of the funding needed to get the deliciously local and organic greens from farm to fridge.  Or frittata.  I didn't really know what "F" word would work there.  Wine, remember?  Look, just be happy I'm not drunk texting anyone this time.  (Lies, I just sent a text that said "speakeasypeasy" to someone.)

ANYWAY.  Like, you know how I was married before?  Well, I wanted to do the whole CSA thing then, but it never happened because I'm pretty sure it was part of the whole "Down, hippie!  Bad hippie for barking at nothing!" movement that was a'happening in our house for a little while and so I just gave up and sneaked in farm stand produce when I could.  Well, now I'm single (Clearly, dear God.  I'd make out with a head of lettuce if it had soft enough lips.) and I can do whatever I want whenever I want and I want my produce to come from a local source that gives a damn about what they're doing and all of that other subversive stuff.    So that lead me to place my order with The Farmer's Daughter CSA.  

The Farmer's Daughter makes weekly deliveries to several places in the Fresno Area, but I'm all about convenience so instead of looking into those other spots I decided to just go with the drop off that happens to take place in my place of employment, Twee Boutique.  OMAHGAWD you guys.  It was gorgeous.  I opened my box up and it was like golden rays came bursting through, and little angels were singing about nutrients and enzymes and shit. And it was only $18.

See: 

 

Obviously I'll be making some serious soup tomorrow.  

I really LAVA a chance to be part of my community by the foods I consume. A tasty step closer to maybe eventually becoming a locavore!

I Lava Lindy Hop!

I am hardly a dancer, but it's not for lack of trying.  In kindergarten I took tap and jazz.  In the unfortunate recital videos you can practically see the thought bubble above my head with "heel-toe, heel-toe" in it,  my face twisted into a grimace of grave concentration.  We danced to the Locomotion and I'm pretty sure that I was the only leotard-clad kid who couldn't even properly get in the conga-line.

First grade came and my mom took pity on my lack of rhythm and put me in ballet.  Yeah, because that was gonna work out.  Luckily, just before my first ballet recital I broke my arm. Instead of watching me clumsily tripping over myself and moving left when I should have gone right, all anyone saw was the little blonde girl with a cast who was stuck moving like a yo-ho-ho pirate while her fellow dancers lithely moved from one graceful plie to another.  (Actually, "plie" is the only real ballet word  remember.  I'm sure it wasn't all plies.  That would look more like a bootcamp fitness class than tiny tots twirling to "Drip Drip Drop Little April Showers.")

Eventually I was determined to be a lost cause and dance classes were deemed a gigantic money pit.  Luck would have it that my third grade teacher taught the class Triple Time Swing all year in the half hour before lunch, ending in a big 'ol dance production at the end of year school assembly.  And by production, I mean thirty-four nine year olds dancing to a shortened version of "Be True to Your School" without Mrs. Richina having a meltdown.  I remember thinking I was pretty much the best ever at that dance, but it also probably was because I had a major crush on the boy who was my dance partner so I was on a cloud the whole time.  We danced so furiously during the assembly that my tissue paper poodle skirt was ripped! Fate would have it that I would be in an on-again-off-again relationship all through 4th grade with that boy, until finally he was convinced by his marble-shooting friend to dump me, and he called me a "Demented Dog" and broke my poor little one-two-three-rock-step heart.

In high school I was in the school production of Big River as a tart (typecasting...) and when my mom and I went to buy some proper character shoes, we got home to discover that in the box there were two left feet. 

Taking that as a sign that I should just give up, I never really formally danced after that.  My only recent brush with dance was a two-part burlesque class that honestly I have no clue how I did in because I was staring at the girl who was a for-realsies dancer in front of me and pretending that her mirror reflection was actually my own.

But see, I love dance.  I dance all the time, even though I have absolutely no faith in my footwork.  In my living room I perform for my gracious dog and I'm suddenly Ginger-freakin'-Rogers- as you can clearly tell by the video I've provided for you as a visual aid.  

I've always wanted to be one of those people who make other people irate because she's taking up the whole dance floor with her crazy-good moves, but with my history of dance failure I never pursued anything.  

And then I met Lauren.  And in addition to being absolutely adorable and kinda Scarlet Johansson-y, she also does lindy hop.  And when I got really excited upon learning that, she said that there would be a Groupon coming soon and I'd better hop on that.

So I did.  It was a little intimidating going to my first class with Fresno Swing Dance because OMIGOSH, they can dance, but my partner and I bravely walked through the doors and realized that everything was going to be juuuust fine.  Everyone was incredibly nice, there were ringers thrown in with the beginners to help keep things moving and because Lindy Hop is a social dance you switch dance partners the whole time and get to make lots of new friends fast.  

And by the end of my first lesson not only was I able to do it without killing anyone, losing a limb, breaking a mirror or crying but I was also completely hooked.  Like, negotiating with the addict in my head to see if I could maybe give up some of my weekly Starbucks budget to keep my feet moving with classes.  Which, if you know me and my habit of always having a Triple Soy Latte in hand, is kind of a big deal.  

I love that as a follower in swing it's all about intuition and reading your partner, which means I can almost figure out the steps better if I close my eyes and go entirely from my leader's cues.  I love that eventually when I stop tripping over myself I'm gonna look like a badass at weddings, provided I bring a plus-one who can Lindy Hop too.  I LAVA that this is something I had always doubted that I'd ever be able to do and now I can't even imagine not seeing it through and testing myself to see just how slightly-better-than-mediocre I can get.  I might even eventually almost be... good!  And those are the kind of breakthroughs that are rocking my gosh-danged world right now.  If I- the girl with two left Capezios, can dance, what else can I accomplish?

I Lava My Mama

After working at JCPenney for 38 years my mom's last day is today.

Let me say it again.  38 years.

Right?!

I love my mom so much.  She's an amazing parent and I consider her my best friend, like, for serious.  She doesn't keep her amazing ways to herself though, almost everyone at Penney's has a story of how she put countless hours into helping them solve problems without ever seeming put out by them. She's organized and thorough, efficient but also really approachable.

I'm always so in awe of her- I got the really wacky creative genes from my dad while my sister got the logical and rational stuff that makes my mom so unique.  She can see through almost any problem, and if she doesn't have a solution instantly she's tenacious and won't stop until she's worked everything out.  Talking to all of the people who have worked with her over the years I've noticed that they almost all have this reverence for her, like she's the patron saint of retail personnel troubleshooting.

I'm really excited for her, I don't know what she's going to do with this new exciting chapter of her life but I know that she's going to tackle it with her expandable file folders and real sincere love for making sure that all is right in the world.

I love you, Mom.  Happy retirement!

I Lava Treasures!

I've started dating this really adorable demigod and he and I have been enjoying taking long walks from his house through Fresno's Tower District.

While out on such a walk we decided that it was definitely in our best interest to pop into a few of the thrift shops along Olive and see what kind of delightful things we could uncover.

It was definitely a good decision.

We happened upon The LOFT, or Lawson's Original Finds & Thrift, located at 143 East Olive.  It looked promising and neither of us had been in there before so we were both eager to rummage through and see what we could see.

I immediately grabbed a picture frame and held it tightly with spray paint intentions dancing about my mind, my arm candy went straight for the records.

There were all kinds of fun items; a microphone and amp sized perfectly for one to proselytize on the Fulton Mall, vintage clothes, collectable Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle art, and antique toys.

While talking to the owners we discovered that they have such an eclectic stock because they frequent storage auctions and get a good amount of their treasures from there.  We also learned that it's not at all like Storage Wars.  There's a lot of hard work that goes into the process- when you buy a unit you're responsible for everything in there, good and bad, filthy, heartbreaking or odd as the items may be. 

We'd paid for our goodies and my beau and I were just chatting when I saw on the wall a beacon of light in these dark times- a unicorn mirror, and for only $10.  I practically ran to it and swooped it into my loving arms and declared it would be mine.  And then, with a swipe of my card, it was mine. 

I don't think you know how excited I was.  I'm always the witness to fantastic thrift store finds.  My thrift-seeking pal Aurora is the queen of finding the impossible, but I usually am just good at spotting oversized Garfield nightshirts to ironically pair with tights and a belt and call hipsterfabulous.  This unicorn mirror was truly like finding a real unicorn for me. 

Next to it on the wall was an adorable picture of two kittens glaring at a spider with a title that read "Distrust".  That dashing superhuman at my side laughed and declared it to be the original lolcats. It may still be there, and I encourage you to go check and see if it is. And then buy it.  I LAVA the adventure of discovering a new spot for unearthing treasures, and with such nice people running it I have nothing but great things to say about my shopping experience!