ODE to the ECHO

On Halloween 2012, I lost something very dear to me…my car. You can roll your eyes; you can brush it off but let me explain something to you: that car has been with me longer than my husband, and it’s taken me everywhere I’ve ever lived!

In 2000 my dad had to get a new car for us. After he and my mom split up he picked his own car out. He really wanted a Toyota Prius, but if you think those babies are expensive now, imagine 12 years ago! The Toyota Echo was a new model they’d released that boasted 35 miles per gallon. He chose a four door forest green version and this new car sported the first I’d ever seen in the “middle dashboard” style interior. No more odometer and gauges through the steering wheel; they slapped that sucker in the middle and tilted it to the left. It was almost like a little alien car!

My dad bought her in Lancaster, Pennsylvania at Lancaster Toyota. Let me explain something about my awesome dad, he hated most new technology with the exception of musical equipment. He wanted a CD player and a tape deck, but no power windows and no air conditioning. The air conditioning wasn’t a choice: he had to have it, but the windows you had to roll down. Nothing too fancy in the new car!

When he and my mom split up we left Lancaster.  I left for Delray Beach, Florida to try and live with mom my junior year of high school and my dad headed out to Oregon after purchasing 40-some acres of isolated woodland property. He took the Echo with him.

When my life with mom went to shit, my dad drove the Echo from Eugene, Oregon all the way to Delray Beach Florida to pick me and my possessions up and take me back to Oregon. That Toyota Echo towed a trailer with my bed, my furniture and all my other stuff I deemed important. Under complete protest he dragged me to the west coast in June. The car was so overworked the check-engine light came on before we even got out of Florida. We couldn’t tow my crap with the air conditioning on or she’d overheat. So we rolled down the windows, sweat profusely and had a lot of ice to munch on. We had to crawl up the mountain ranges. And eventually she got us to Eugene safely.

For my senior year I shared that car with my dad. Occasionally he’d allow me out on the town with that car, and so began the legend of Enid the Echo. By 2003 she was still relatively new. My dad kept her in pristine condition. I helped wear her in.

Much like the Queen classic, I’ll admit, “I’m in love with my car.” I snuck cigarettes in that car. I went on drives to nowhere and everywhere. It took me to concerts, to work, to school, to events, to new apartments, to visit friends and boyfriends, and to visit family. That car took me practically everywhere I’ve ever been.

Enid the Echo didn’t officially become mine until my dad bought his truck. After she was paid off, he needed an all terrain vehicle to help him get further into his rustic property and Enid just wasn’t that kind of car. She could hit the Oregon coast highways and curvy roads like no other, but she wasn’t a rough and tumble kind of car.

When she became mine I’d just started my punk rock princess phase, so I immediately outfitted her properly with bumper stickers, cartoon air fresheners, interior stickers and stuff. My car became local legend. Everyone knew the bumper sticker car.

Anyone who knows me, even remotely well, knows me with that car. That car took me to meet my old best friend for the first time, and without that trip I would have never met my husband. That car took me to and from the nannying job that changed my life. Enid drove me to and from Lane Community College so I could get my Associates Degree. My car took me to University of Oregon every day to get my Bachelor of Arts.

My horrible ex almost stole my Echo and when I drove three hours to retrieve her, I then drove home in her alone crying, listening to Modest Mouse and she rocked out with me. That car took me to so many concerts and then was festooned with souvenirs from those epic adventures.

Enid the Echo took my husband and I on our first date. He wanted to drive because his car was filthy and didn’t have a reliable heater. That car drove half of my husband’s band on their one and only multi-state tour. That car took my husband and I on our first anniversary when we were still dating. She took the little ones I babysat to feed the ducks and one day when I gave her stickers, she decorated the passenger, back sear window. Dora the Explorer was all over, and I never took it down.

I got my first and only two speeding tickets in that car. That car had more memories and stories than most and anyone who ever knew me, even just a little bit, probably rode in it. That car was a part of me, and she was tough to let go.

I’ll tell you one story about Enid the Echo. It sounds like something out of a movie, but I swear this is true: Back in High School I went through a classic music phase. My friend and I were obsessed with Led Zeppelin, Elton John, The Who, Cat Stevens, The Doors, The Grateful Dead, etc. My friend and I got the Echo and went on one of our afternoon drives. It was just after we graduated high school and we were rocking out some “Tiny Dancer.” We had the windows down and the music up. We were on a quiet but main road in Eugene at a stop light singing, and we look over and on the front lawn there are three hippies playing hackey sack and they join in with us and we’re all singing “Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer!” And we all knew all the words.

Enid the Echo was there for me in all other changes. When we moved, when I broke up with my exes, fought with friends, needed to run away, needed to get from job to job, she was there. She was my constant in a world of chaos and change. She was my first and only car up until recently.

She took my old best friend to say goodbye to his grandparents when they passed because he didn’t have a car. She took me to and from the airport to fly to see my grandparents for the last time and to say goodbye. She took me to and from the airport so I could see the world and study for three months in London. She took me to and from my in-laws houses. She was my wingman!

The night my husband and I got married, we packed her to move to Florida and left her in front of my Aunt’s house. Someone broke her window and stole a bunch of our stuff. We took that car, on a trailer across the country again on our honeymoon moving adventure, with a busted window. We duct taped a Forever 21 bag on her and it didn’t budge in the scariest storm we’d ever seen. There were still marks form the duct tape on her when we said goodbye. She took us around San Francisco and even down Lombard Street. She took us all over Memphis and New Orleans. She took us to Tampa. She’s always brought us home.

Enid the Echo had 253,000 miles on her! She still got 29 miles per gallon! She lived in Tampa for three years with no tinted windows and unreliable air conditioning. We had a scare with her last year but because she’s a rock star she cost us very minimal amounts to maintain and I swore I’d drive that car until she just didn’t drive anymore. But sometimes life has other plans.

When we found out I was pregnant in May, we’d already been discussing, getting a newer car. We’d decided on Toyota or Subaru because my husband and I had seen great longevity with both. Finally I won out on trading the Toyota in for another Toyota and I had my heart set on a Yaris or Matrix. Every time I wanted to test drive new ones, my husband came up with something else we needed to do.

Finally, about 5 months into my pregnancy we realized that with my not working for three months, having a new car payment and insurance wasn’t exactly a smart plan. We also realized we’d have no down payment. We thought we’d just keep Enid for one more year and then turn her in next summer.

In the midst of all this we had some other unexpected expenses come up, as they do in life. We were desperately trying to bounce back when my husband told me Enid really needed new brakes, which we’d put off long enough. We took her in and it cost twice what we’d estimated.

It was around this time and opportunity came up. Our best friends had just been given a brand new car and were getting rid of their old Pontiac Grand AM. They’d planned to just take it to Carmax but they offered it to us for a very fair price. Up until we took Enid in for the brakes, we’d toyed with the idea of having both cars. But when they came out to quote us on brakes they came out with a laundry list of other issues totaling over $2000. This was it. She was a goner.

We looked at her bluebook and even with a few dings and a LOT of bumper stickers she was worth about $1400. We took her to Carmax and they offered 500$. That was a slap in the face. I started to mentally let her go but to be honest, I just wanted it to be done. I couldn’t handle it.

Being pregnant and getting rid of my car was intense. I realized she was the first car our fuzzy pup, Brodie had ever been in. He loved to go on car rides and he knew which car was ours. I realized that someone else was going to take her away because we needed to put her on Craigslist to get a fair price.

Even though our amazing friends gave us the Pontiac, it took us a few days to sell Enid. It was very stressful for me because I wanted it to be over with. I’d told so many people I had to let her go but the whole letting go thing was not easy. I spent as much time with her as I could before we showed her to a buyer. I had this sneaking suspicion that she would just sell. That someone would see her and just say yes and that would be it.

My husband is a saint because he knew this whole thing would suck so much for me. I would never ever recommend selling a car you are attached to while pregnant. It’s unfair on every level. I’d already taken almost everything out of her and she looked barren and sad. But on Halloween my husband had a buyer. He took them on a test drive. He let me stay in the apartment and I just cleaned up a storm to distract myself.

He came to get me. He told me the offer and he said we should take it. I agreed. I asked if I could keep my key and he said no, we needed to give them both. I went to change and get the title and I started to well up. I felt the tears bubbling inside me. I went downstairs and met them. They had heavy accents. I have no idea where they were from. They gave my husband the money and I had to sign over the title.

As I was signing I had that moment. That moment out of “The Goonies” where you’re about to sign something and you hesitate and double check what it is you’re signing, while someone is leering over you to make sure it happens. I signed and we were going to have to give them the keys. The buyer said “Is that the only key?” My husband looked at me, and then him, and said, yes, just that one.”

We shook hands and they left. I saw them pull out and I lost it. I couldn’t watch her drive away from me. I bolted up to the apartment and just started to ball. My husband handed me my key, and said, “Here, she’ll always be yours.” I looked up at him red-faced and cried, “This really sucks!” He told me he knew and he’d miss her too.

It was the end of an era; the end of Enid. Everyone put the realistic and positive spin on it for me but I still needed a good cry. I know that the Pontiac was a better family car. It had more room, 150,000 less miles than Enid and was a better investment for the next year. It was definitely better to get rid of Enid while we could before she really broke down. And our friends saved us from having something seriously complicated happen and helped keep it simple and on our own terms.

BUT, it sucks saying goodbye. I miss her; a lot! And like I said, you can make fun of me as much as you want but when you have a car with that much history, that many memories and that many miles, it’s bound to stir up some emotions…especially when you’re nearly 7 months pregnant.

So goodbye Enid! I’m so sorry we had to let you go after taking such good care of all of us for 12 years but you’ll always be a rock star and I could never watch you really die. Thanks for being the best car ever! YOU WILL BE MISSED AND REMINISCED! ALWAYS!

The Ugly Truth about the Beauty of Pregnancy

Six months into pregnancy, I’m feeling pretty good. I have the big old baby bump and the hormones to boot!  But there’s so much that no book, no movie, and no Google search could ever tell you about the horrors of pregnancy. And the worst part is, it’s barely physical or mental, it’s all the outside sources converging into one big ball of disaster.

Part One: The Shower

My friends threw me an amazing baby shower. And I had my baby shower at the beginning of my 6^th month. Why? Everyone asked, “Why so early!?” Well, many reasons actually. The first one being, our due date is January 30^th, 2013. Who wants to wait until around the holidays when everyone’s broke and then try and get gifts out of them? The second one, I knew six months in I would still want to be around people in a celebratory capacity. When I’m 8-9 months, I’ll barely want my husband around me. Why push our luck? Thirdly, we live in Florida and October is a great month to have outdoor events and the free place we had the amazing event allowed us to take over the patio. It’s a win-win.

I work with most of my friends so the shower created quite a stir.  I work in a place with about 50 employees. I have a great relationship with about 30 of them. Everyone wanted to go. We’re open 7 days a week so my girls tried to make it on an early close evening and make it an easily accessible event. Two weeks before the shower the drama fairies dropped glitter bombs all over. People who RSVP’d were dropping like flies, and all of the sudden people we never thought would show up, were definitely coming. It was slightly overwhelming! On top of that co-workers were arguing about my shower and the schedule to accommodate everyone requesting to go.

The shower went off without a hitch. We have some amazing people in our lives who contributed A LOT. All of the sudden we had such an amazing collection of things, both necessary and fun. The girls who threw my shower are amazing and we will never be able to thank them enough!

Part Two: The Social Commentary

Everyone wants to know about your pregnancy, but what YOU don’t want to know, is their opinion on how you’re handling things. Doctors are one thing. Doctors are made to scare you. My doctor yelled at me for gaining too much weight because I started to be able to physically eat. My husband yelled back at her that he intended to feed his family and I looked beautiful. Then my doctor scared us into flu shots, which I’m still recovering from. She basically said that if we refused and the baby and I died, it’s not like she didn’t warn us; such a calming picture.

What’s worse is when people ask and you tell them and then they interject why they are right or why you are wrong. I’d been verbally accosted throughout my pregnancy, so I was used the form of mental abuse, but now there were other forces at bay. We’d made the executive decision to do cloth diapers. Why? My husband was allergic to regular diapers, and with a lot of help and advice from a co-worker and his wife I found out that I’d save an obscene amount of money with just a little bit of help. When someone asked about diapers and I told them cloth I got two adverse reactions. One saying, “Oh, that won’t last long,” and another saying, “Cloth? Ugh! What a pain!” I’d learned then that this “hippie” idea may not easily be reveled in.

Then there’s insurance. Everyone wants to know what kind of insurance you have if you have it. At this point I know so much better than to even reveal that part of our lives, but I’ll tell you this: it’s OUR BUSINESS. There are far worse off people in this universe than us, and what we do or do not have, whether coverage is great or crappy or nonexistent, we KNOW WHAT WE ARE DOING. This baby girl was NOT A SURPRISE. We entered into this amazing journey knowing that we could handle ANYTHING because that’s what we do and WHO WE ARE. No matter what, this baby girl will be LOVED and will NEVER go without the basic necessities in this world. EVER!

And of course, there’s the name. Up until last year my heart was set on naming any female of mine Lillian. But then when we were discussing boy and girl names and my husband threw out the name Luna. The middle name was easier. He came up with infusing both of our father’s middle names together into Raylee: unique and gorgeous. And so we had Luna Raylee Chriss. And that’s when the jokes came in. Look, every child will be teased but everyone just hopped on the point, “Wait, you’re naming your child, Luna Chriss?” Some of my favorite people didn’t get it right away. But then it sinks in, it sounds like ludicrous.  But what’s so ludicrous? Naming our baby girl something like Luna Raylee Chriss? Or naming our child something ordinary or trendy? She’s ours and she’ll wear that name with pride. So laugh all you want but our child will be amazing because she is OURS!

Part Three: The Gross Anatomy of Pregnancy: What the books don’t tell you!

Pregnancy is beautiful yes, but here’s what the books never admit: Your boobs grow to porn star proportions. It’s alarming and not charming. They itch and they’re sore so even though your husband wants a little boob time, if he comes near you, you’ll slap him away. Your ankles at one point, no longer exist and you do in fact get the ever dreaded “cankles.” It’s not a good day.

Bending down in any way becomes something out of a science fiction novel. Either you’re getting yelled at for not squatting or your knees bump the belly or the belly bumps other things. It’s so awkward. Your hormones are so out of hand you feel bipolar. You’ll be crying and then laughing and then crying.  Forgetfulness plays a large part too, so odds are you’ll forget if you were laughing, why you were. You’ll forget something that just happened 10 seconds ago.

The gas is out of this world. It’s not even the smell, it’s the activity. You’re a walking whoopee cushion. You’re just one big ball of bloat and gas. And I think I saw the hints of a double chin in some photos: scary!

 

The bottom line is that pregnancy is definitely an adventure in more ways than one. You’d be surprised who comes out of the woodwork to surprise you with love and support and sometimes gifts! Then again it can stir a dirty jealousy in people. Some people, people we’ve had into our home, fed and helped out, have treated me like a chubby leper! No “Congratulations,” no card, no gift, no acknowledgement! But a high school friend you haven’t even seen for four years will pleasantly surprise you and send you an expensive gift off of our registry.

Pregnancy is tough. It’s not easy in any way. But it is a gift. Some people enter into it hastily. Others enter into it accidentally. If you’re like us, you enter into it knowing it will change your lives for the better and take you into a realm you never thought possible. And everything they don’t tell you, you’ll come to easily. And everything people do tell you, you’ll learn to tune out. Just remember: it’s about you, your partner and the life you’re nourishing. Keep that in mind and all these other stressors just kind of…fade away!

Parental Control!

One of my all time favorite Keanu Reeves characters was his supporting role in the film “Parenthood,” which has an all star cast and definitely covers some of the craziness of parenting, but also contains my favorite quote: “ Ya know, they make you get a license to drive a car, to catch a fish, hell they’ll even make you get a license to buy a dog…but they’ll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father…”

Luckily, the man in my life is ANYTHING but a butt-reaming asshole, but we certainly don’t want to be complete fuck ups in our role as parents. As if the whole pregnancy thing isn’t strange and terrifying as it is, next you’ve got parents asking you all about your plans for bringing up baby.

I was just hoping to read some baby books, maybe get some DVDs, get through the actual labor and then step into mom-hood. But now I have people asking if I’ve started interviewing pediatricians!? I realize we have control here but seriously? Wow…

Perhaps I’ve underestimated the greatness of the whole baby thing, but what about who WE are as prospective parents? My husband and I are pretty laid back. We’re healthy people who love our food, wine and spirits. We love our relaxation, our work and our play. And we love that we’re having this baby.

Sure we’ll take the baby in for check-up, to get shots and all the normal baby stuff, but we’re not research and interview pediatrician people. We’re barely long term planners! How about referral? How about it depends on the level of healthcare we have for baby at that time. How about we need to set up the nursery? How about we can’t afford to freak about these things!?

Time is already flying, as it does, and as the hormones go wild I continue to have overwhelming moments of “this is a life changing thing,” realization, shouldn’t we just be allowed to be? One of my last blogs I wrote about enjoying the journey. Will society allow us to do that?

If I could tune out the clatter, I would. TRUST ME. I enjoy the excitement part, it’s just the questions, and then the “have you’s?,” implying that you haven’t done enough yet. It is my personal opinion that you can have too much information. I’m enough of a worrier. I’m trying to take the whole pregnancy and parenting thing one step at a time. I’m trying to keep calm and carry on.

As hormones and emotions run high, I have to wonder why people keep pressing me!? Am I overly sensitive or are people just insensitive assholes? I think it may be a combination of the two. Can’t I just try the instinctual motherly thing to get me by? I’ve always promised myself I would try with every fiber of my being to be a good mother. Here I am, facing the challenge, with an amazing man by my side, and I just want to live day by day. One day at a time.

Why obsess over the little things we can’t control when we’ll have the ultimate parental control? This amazing little being will come into our lives and change everything in the best way ever and you want us to obsess about laundry detergents, preschool, pediatricians, what brand of food, and formula? No thank you. I just want to be with my man, my baby and my dog. I just want us to be a family.

Sure, some families aren’t always perfect and some guys won’t be good fathers as some women will be wretched mothers but in this realm of parental control, I’m just glad I have a front row seat. We’ll learn as we go. We’ll all learn as we all grow. So why get all controlling and overly cautious when you can just enjoy the ride and the journey. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is us, and we’ve come a long way. Nothing will get in the way now. If you want to share a great family story, please do. If you want to tell me how to be a parent, please don’t. My hormonal side is growing less and less patient. And in these last few months, I tend to grasp every single amazing moment I can.

Pregnan-see?

Where have I been in the world of writing and composition? I’ve been pregnant. You may think that’s not an excuse, but believe me, it totally is. When you find out your pregnant you have way to many options for reactions. For me, it was all very cautionary.

I told maybe a few girl friends I was late, of course my husband already knew. Some women say “you know.” All I knew was I’ve never been late, and I’d been off of birth control for four years. I’d never had so much as a “scare” in my 27 years on this planet, so it was definitely an indicator.  I jumped the gun on excitement earlier this year and grabbed a pack of pregnancy tests. Those things are expensive so my husband insisted that I wait until we had a real cause to take one.

It happened on Memorial Day, well the eve of that Monday. I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t sick but I wasn’t well. I had to work all day Monday of Memorial Day and then be hostess to dinner plans I’d conjured up. That Sunday night I was curled up in a ball in bed desperate for sleep and begged my husband to come straight home. I remember he knew I was late and I just wailed, “I don’t feel good.” He put his hand on my lower stomach and curled up with me so I could sleep.

Memorial Day we went by and I snagged a nap before dinner. My girls were buzzing wanting to know when I’d pee on the stick. I promised that Tuesday I’d do it and we’d see. My husband agreed. I woke up that Tuesday morning after over ten hours of sleep anxious and excited. I’d heard the morning was a good testing time so I read the directions and took it. I don’t think it took the full minute before the two pink lines radiated the signal for “Pregnant.” I crawled back in bed and woke my husband.

I put the test on his chest and let him see for himself. He smiled and said, “I knew it.” When I asked how he just said, “I just…knew.” We went to the doctor to get the definitive “Yes,” and then we told people only on a need to know basis, which was a total of three co-workers. No family, no old friends, just the girls that I needed to help me cover my ass at work in case I got sick or the rumors started.

At the time there was another woman at work pregnant. She told everyone right away and it was all anyone could talk about. That wasn’t going to be me. None was the word. My husband actually caved and told his coworkers first. Everyone thought it was adorable and wanted to keep me fed.

And so the journey began. Keeping it quiet was pretty easy. Believing I was pregnant was the hard part. And all the books say different things. I also quickly discovered that women don’t even tell you how crummy being pregnant is. It’s truly amazing to be forming human life but it’s also exhausting and very intense. I’ve had cousins and some of my best friends give birth to 2 or more babies and no one tells you the pitfalls. The constant nausea, never being able to find anything decent to eat, the headaches, vomiting, aches and pains and pure unadulterated exhaustion are never really detailed. The books just call it “fatigue.” I think it’s slightly more than that, readers!

The miracle of life is hard. I’ve caved many times and whimpered to my husband that this is all very hard, but what makes it even harder: the peanut gallery.

Once you start telling people that you’re harboring a baby, the reactions are hilarious and always very candid. My dad was delighted, my step-mom squealed, my eldest sister was ecstatic, my other sister seemingly complacent and my mom was pretty stoked as well. At work, some people were stunned. The general question was whether or not it was planned. The answer is: “Well, it wasn’t unplanned.”

We’re not the kind of couple who lets life take us for a ride anymore. We can go with the flow and just ride it out but we make the big decisions that make our life great. We refuse to be victims of circumstance.

I think my biggest pet peeve of telling the world we’re expecting, is everyone telling us, or at least me about my pregnancy. It’s like as soon as you say “Pregnant” it opens this can of worms starting with “See, when I was pregnant,” or “I heard if the baby,” “Have you thought about…,” “You should…,” and it just goes on and on.

And no one is right, and no one can really tell you what’s going on with your body, but everyone must chime in. Those you listen and genuinely care just want to hear about you, not tell you about you. The peanut gallery will always be there though.  So far I’ve been told that since I have constant heartburn, I’m having a boy. A week later another person said my heartburn means it’s a girl. Others say my belly is sitting high, which means it’s a girl. I then explain to them where exactly the child is within my body, and then they say, oh well maybe it’s a boy then.

I’ve been told what to eat and not to eat by people who live off of shitty Chinese food and McDonald’s. I take their advice with a grain of salt, or perhaps a pound of salt in some cases. I’ve been told by a complete stranger I need to avoid a hospital birth and get a midwife because it’s more cost effective and my baby will be happier and healthier if you keep it away from the scary hospitals. I’ve been told a lot about my pregnancy, but sometimes you just need to tune it out. Mostly I just listen to my baby and my body, and believe me, that baby tells me if it doesn’t like what I’m doing.

Everyone wants to know my cravings. Cravings? I’ve recently discovered meals and snacks from my childhood are the easiest to go down. I’ll tell you this though, if there are no mini-bagels with cream cheese, cheddar cheese, ice cream-related dessert items, or some kind of chip other than potato, like tortilla or corn chip, there will be hell to pay.

Oh and then there’s the activity factor. I had some extra weight on me before I conceived. At that time I was hitting the gym 5 days a week for at least an hour. I took up to four spin classes a week. I did weight training, yoga, and jogging. After I found out about the little minion inside of me I had to slow down. And my first trimester I had experienced a kind of tired feeling like I never thought possible. My second trimester is much better but working out is not easy. If I’m lucky I get some activity in once a week. But working 40 hours a week, and then keeping up with pup and home is a lot harder when creating life.

And I was always taught never to taunt the animals so I can’t for the life of me understand why the people in my everyday life insist on testing me. I’m pregnant people, let’s not go out of our way to annoy or piss me off. For the most part, the whole pregnancy journey has been just that; quite a trip.

Family has been a rock, although it is times like these when having a present and active mother sure would be nice, but I have an amazing husband to take great care of me. That kind of support isn’t something that comes with every marriage and every child. That’s something that through being pregnant, I see.

Mostly, being pregnant is a miracle and I wouldn’t change anything. Through all of the less desirable symptoms it’s still just so amazing to be a part of something so big. I’ve always been worried that I couldn’t become everything a mother should be but with this pregnancy, I feel this ever-growing sense of calm. Everything will be okay. We are a family and we’re growing more and more every day now. Times will be hard and things will be different in so many ways, but we’ll all be so much better for it. We’ve never felt so…lucky. We finally just fell into the place we’d been trying to get to, and the feeling is indescribable.

So that’s my pregnancy, see?

What to Expect When You’re Expecting the Conversation About Expecting…

Someone once told me that there’s no “right time” for a baby. There’s no “readiness” for a child. You just adapt. I guess I can see both sides, but personally I see it differently. To me there are two choices, you either consent to having a child, embracing the possibility, or you take the proper precautionary measures to keep “single” life alive and kicking.

Years ago my husband and I made the agreement: kids when we’re 30-ish.  And then a couple years later we thought, “okay we can stop being ‘cautious’ when we’re 28.” But then this year, all of the sudden, it hit me that age 28 wasn’t so very far away anymore. I’ll admit I had moments for the past two years where my body was begging for babies but I’d always seemed to skirt around them. The puppy purchase certainly helped.

Occasionally when I’m acting too baby crazy, my husband tells me to yell at my hormones and ask them to leave us both alone, but he scared the shit out of me at the beginning of this year when he told me he was actually okay with the idea of us having a baby.

I’d recently given up on the whole, planning of a life thing. Five year plans turn into 12 year plans and you’re almost never where you thought you’d be…ever. Sometimes you just go with the flow and adapt. You make the decision to let life happen instead of waiting for it to knock on your door and ask for an invitation in.

And thus the “expecting” conversation happened. All of the sudden we just weren’t afraid or feeling cautious. I think it came with the new security we’d found with stable jobs, real paychecks and new responsibilities and capabilities.

I’m not one of those women who can strategically plan to conceive. I feel that takes all the fun out of it. It makes the whole thing a chore, instead of something made out of love. I can’t even keep track of my cycle, let alone the other things around it so we agreed: we aren’t “trying” we’re just not trying to not try.

Don’t get excited people. Us Chriss’ believe in things happening as they should. After many mistakes and miscalculations, we like to make sure we aren’t in over our heads. We like to be pretty darn sure of things. Our engagement, wedding, and move to Florida all happened out of our sureness, not out of a fleeting idea.

We have almost been married three years and are still on our honeymoon. We barely fight anymore. Where we once had to fight out of frustration with every other person but each other, now we usually have a good row now and then just to keep with the spice of life, but our fights are miniscule compared to pre-married life. We grow, we work and we live out of love, and so will each step forward.

You may be reading this thinking, “Oh wow, so they’re like trying to have a baby,” but life is never that simple. Seeing as how you can’t force something to happen and you’re never really ready, I think it’s safer to just say…”It’s all happening.” And it’s happening at its’ own pace. We are ready but we’re not rushing. It’ll happen when it happens. And then another blog entry will appear about “The Happening!”

Shifts of Self

Can you have a mid-life crisis if you’re not, mid-life? Can you just wake up one morning and be out with all the old and ready to usher in all the new? Can you recommit to yourself in the snap of a finger?

These are the questions slapping me in the face as I realize that I’ve outgrown many, many things. I just had my birthday and instead of doing the boring thing where I freak out about getting closer to 30, I’m just ready to dive into some new things.

I had a great month in March. I ran a 5K, worked out here and there, ate what I want, did what I wanted and just let it all go. If I wanted wine, I had it. If I wanted a margarita, I’d get one. But soon enough my body put a big old yield sign in my face and urged me to rethink the nonstop,
carefree whims I’d been allowing myself to succumb to. It was time to get it in gear.

My husband helped with one of the best presents: A YMCA Gym membership. I’m a group fitness junkie. Spin, tone and sculpt, Step class, yoga, whatever; I’m there! I do pretty much everything but water aerobics and Zumba. I went head first into old routines and completely realigned my diet and eating habits. My husband and I agreed on giving up bad habits for 30 days,
just to see what, if any impacting effects it had. No alcohol, less caffeine, up the veggies, grains and goodness, down the snacks, junk and fun badness.

Then I noticed some other stuff too. I’m anything but a cook. Occasionally I like to bake, but I’m not a cook. My favorite food is tacos. Well, that, and salad. But I can never get enough of my husband’s tacos. Simple ground beef or turkey and guacamole, pico de gallo, lite sour cream ,
cheese, cilantro, maybe even some lettuce and I’m hooked! One night he said that if I wanted tacos, I had to make them, with his supervision of course. He gave me the play by play and prepped everything (I SUCK at chopping anything) and it wasn’t so terrible.

The next thing I know, a few nights later, I’m heating up some basic veggie casserole from the Crockpot that we made for reserves in the event of long days and no energy and I realize we have some things I could add to make it a bit…tastier. Before I know it, I have Boca Burger crumbles,
mushrooms, onions, jalapeno, garlic and basic seasoning sauté-ing in a pan. It was delicious, but the idea of me creating culinary delights.

It happened again on an evening when my husband was home and before I knew what I was saying, I’d somehow offered to make dinner with his gentle direction. And there it was, BAM! I made spaghetti sauce with ground beef, mushrooms, fresh parmesan, spices, banana peppers, onions and garlic!

Before I could control it on my day off, I made a key lime pie, roasted chickpeas for a snack/appetizer, cinnamon crumb cake (okay that one was from a box), and a chicken fajita/enchilada concoction complete with chicken, red bell peppers, jalapeno, onion, seasoning, enchilada sauce, and garlic to add onto casserole or brown rice! I didn’t know where it was coming from! I’d also been on a rampage making small home improvements in attempts to make our new place more “grown up” and “homey.” We’d decided to have a stay-cation if a vacation even existed this year and we were determined to make this place an oasis.

I also started a curious journal out of an Alice in Wonderland notebook I’d been given for Christmas a couple years ago. I named it my “Desiry: A Diary of Desires.” Keep your head on straight people, this is not a naughty book! I just started writing everything I want in it…from the
physical and tangible to the completely fantastical and improbable. It’s freeing!

I’d recently come to the realization that some of the simple and seemingly ridiculous goals I’d set for myself when I was in high school have been achieved and I didn’t want to live life forgetting what I’d wanted in my twenties. When I was 17 I wanted to make my own money so I could purchase brewed, coffee house coffee for myself every day. I can totally do that now if I want. It’s a total waste of money, but it’s the principle of the thing. I also vowed to free myself of my dad’s one-ply toilet paper embargo and dare to get something quilted. That’s in my twenty-something budget as well. Go me!

So I just started writing. I put the date and what I want. So far a Louis Vuitton purse, trip to New York to see “Wicked” on Broadway, new towels, new bedroom sheet set, and watching everything on my Netflix Instant Queue all live in my “Desiry.” I think I’m scaring the people around me too. I’m more in tune with realities, frustrations and demands. I’m doing things I haven’t done
in a long time, and it’s a positive move forward. Perhaps I’m, somehow, having an out of body experience.

Maybe these are attempts at staving off a looming feeling of impending depression. Maybe I’m just growing into my 27 year old self at an alarming rate. Maybe I’m having a Tom Hanks circa “Big” experience! I’m replacing my hunger for content with a hunger for the new and exciting. We’ve met some new amazing people and they are rubbing off on me, in a good way!
I still have a long road to full adulthood but at least I know where that path is, rather than constantly meandering elsewhere. I’ve revisited the past through memories, music and momentary daydreams about the “What If,” all too often. I guess I’m just ready for positive forward momentum. Life is touch and every day is not always rainbows and sunshine but the good definitely outweighs the bad.

Some changes sneak up on you with no choice and no warning. Some changes are looming but never fully present. And some changes are constant and ever evolving. I guess it’s time for me to be a part of the evolution embrace it all! There may be a new kind of Ali around but she’s still sassy, sarcastic and ALL ALI! I guess it’s just the New and Improved version of Ali…stay
tuned!

The Relationship Contribution Ideal

I guess it all stems from some weird family thing where we buy each other’s love. Rather than constantly saying “I love you,” we just spoiled the shit out of each other with stuff and things. Perhaps that’s where I got my inherent need to contribute to relationships, both romantic and platonic. Buying gas, food, fun and entertainment just became a regular thing. Oh, it got
taken advantage of, let me tell you, but with the people that count, it counted me in as a person who wasn’t afraid to contribute.

When it comes to work, I never really had a problem with getting a job and making my own money. That comes from my mom’s side; with the exception of her, they are all workaholics. I liked paying my dues. At the end of the day, I could close the book and say, “I worked hard, and with my earnings I’m sure going to play hard.” I have always done what I was supposed to do and what was asked of me with my work. As a nanny I even ventured to do a little more than just that. I liked to be a good worker, and someone who was valued by my employers. Although this is another area I’ve been taken advantage of in, for the most part, I just want to participate and be present.

When it comes to my husband and me, we like to be equal participants in this marriage. Even though we both bitch to each other about it, we end up wearing it with pride. As two people who have been screwed over in more ways than one, monetarily, emotionally, and even with our own
possessions, we are all about sharing the wealth as often as we can to keep the karmic cycle on our side, rather than repeat earlier fallbacks. Sure, the standing joke from my husband is “My money is our money and her money is her money,” but we have an agreement when it comes to family finances: He works more and brings home the bacon, and the rent check, so I keep up the house and work part time to pay the bills and keep us fed. We are masters of our craft, masters of our relationship and of our marriage. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

One of my best friends and I always say, “Do you work to live, or live to work?” I think we can all agree that all work and no play makes us all dull people! My bestie and I also agree that no one WANTS to work, but as a part of society, that’s usually just how it is. Some people have this sense of entitlement, which I've never understood. We are entitled to working to earn a paycheck and we are entitled to general human rights. This does not include the American Pop Culture trend of laziness, a general disregard for basic responsibilities and being a loaf upon society.

Personally, I would go crazy if I was stuck at home all the time. I would have to find all kinds of crazy projects to keep me busy. And I love being an active participant in my world, my marriage, and in all of my relationships. We may not have a million dollars and money to just throw away,
but we can care for ourselves and the people we love. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Sure, someday my husband and I will settle down and have little ginger kids and I won’t be working all the time. We’ve already agreed on my staying home for the first handful of precious years with the little ones. I agreed on my staying home, because I want to be an active contributor and participant in my role as a mother.

Don’t get me wrong, I would LOVE to see my husband’s face if I just said, “Yeah I don’t really
wanna work anymore. It’s not very fun.” He may pee his pants laughing at me as he gave me the “Tough shit,” look. But the again, I would never say that. Working gives me sense of purpose. No one loves their job 100% of the time, but both of us have found a place in our lives where we are pretty happy with the general state of it all. This is a new horizon for us. We'll embrace it! Things could always be worse.

This isn’t some sanctimonious statement of how I’m some holier than thou, bad ass
wife and lazy wives and single gals suck; this is just my way of saying that you need to find
whatever makes you happy and fit it into your lifestyle. Contribute where and when you can to whatever relationship you feel most strongly for! We’re in a very progressive age. I doubt most women have the simple goal of being taken care of and pampered these days. I’m just saying, why spend all your time and energy doing nothing when you could be doing something!?!

My husband constantly taunts me. As an Aries, I’m a busy-body. I can do everything all at once but relaxing is the hardest thing for me. Sitting still and indulging in “nothing” is something I’m not very receptive to. Lately I’ve heard so many friends talking about work, long term plans and
life as we know it. When you leave the grace period of your “early twenties,” you’re all of the sudden just expected to have it all figured out.

I’m coming to realize, however, that if you can’t contribute to your immediate realm, how are you going to contribute to a plan? It all goes with that whole, “If you’re not a part of the solution, you’re part of the problem,” thing. I feel lucky that I didn’t marry some macho pig who thinks my
job is to cook, clean and cater to his needs whilst pumping out a parade of kids. I feel lucky that I have a job and that I can pay my bills and afford a few frills here and there.

I think it’s safe to say that my relationship contribution is that I want to be truly IN my relationship. I want to be an active being, rather than watching the world go by as a spectator. I love being lazy as much as the next person, but when I look back and I give advice to the generations behind me, I’ll tell them I had to work my way through this world too. I have a feeling the end of the journey will be just as rewarding as the journey itself! I guess I’ll let ya know.

The Old, Boring, Married Couple

I’m not even sure we realized it. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but we made the shift into the old, boring, married couple. I blame the dog.

We went through a phase a few years ago where staying home was social death. We were broke all the time because we hated our tiny, little apartment and our tiny, little existence so much we had to escape. Escape = bar, restaurant, concert, whatever! But it was never cheap! Even when we moved in with family, then we had to escape the drama that created so we were never home and we never had money.

Before the puppy, we weren’t out all the time but we generally reserved being at home for sleeping and getting ready to go out. The dog just gave us a great excuse to be at home and really enjoy some down time. Our old apartment started wearing on us, though. We hated it. In retrospect, it was kind of a shit hole, but it was what we could get, easily and fast, when we moved across the country to our brand new life. We took what was in front of us. We did a few upgrades and always tried to be the social couple, inviting people over, but we still loved going out. Who doesn't?

Now, though, things have changed a bit. We don’t have much time to go out together. We don’t have much time to do much of anything together, so we're conservative with our time-spending choices. We live in a brand new, bright space. I’ve worked really hard on making our home an oasis. The dog loves it, and we love it. We like being there, why go out?

We’ve had some personal revelations too, one of which definitely comes with age: Going out and drinking; not so worth it anymore. It’s great fun with friends and there are always nice occasions but, it’s not a necessary thing anymore. We barely even drink at home, and when we do it’s a glass of whatever or two, max. We’re not party animals. We’re lazy animals. We like to relax and watch our Netflix Instant Queue. We like to curl up with the pug and unwind. We kinda like to be left alone.

I have days where I barely even touch the computer. I’m not constantly on it looking for entertainment and distraction anymore. We have days where we don’t even use our phones to speak to actual humans, we just text. We are boring, wonderful, homebodies. But maybe that’s not so bad.

There is something comforting in being relaxed with the person you are in love with. It’s nice when you don’t have to wear make-up, or care about whether or not you stay in your pajamas all day. It’s cliché and very typical, but being that comfortable is awesome.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re active. Bike rides, jogging, using the fitness center and soon enough a new gym membership will come around, but we value our down time so much, we really make it count. I’ll spend many hours making the house spotless, all so on our only day off together, we can master the art of doing nothing. I love days with lazy mornings, late breakfasts, long walks with the dog, and watching new movies together. One crazy cleaning spree every once in awhile is just par for the course.

Sure there are those moments when you worry you’re “too comfortable,” and that the joke of the thrill being gone, and sarcasm about being boring and married, isn’t much of a joke but at the end of the day, it’s all about growth and growing up.

We’re a year away from our 10 year high school reunion. We’re finally settled into steady workplaces, paychecks, and routines. We’re finally, pretty friggin’ happy! This is something that is anything but boring for us. It’s exciting! We’re talking about epic leaps into grown-up-hood on the horizon. New car, matching furniture, real vacations, new electronics, business gatherings, nights out with other couples; what’s boring about that?

Okay to some people the above list is just sad, but when you’ve finally found your happy place, it’s actually comforting. College is about completing your requirements to get this done, to graduate, to get that internship or that job. It’s all about getting to that one, single goal, but things are constantly changing. Life evolves from day to day. One day you’ll wake up and realize that things aren’t what you ever thought they would be. For some people, this realization is tough to accept, for others it sparks new opportunities and challenges. You have to embrace your old, married, bored-ness and make it count!

You have to ask yourself what you really want. If all you want is a home-cooked meal or even Chinese food delivered and a great movie on a Saturday night, that’s okay! Wear it with pride. You don’t have to go out on Saturday night and drink and party! You don’t have to go to the beach just because it’s a gorgeous day. It’s so easy to get caught up in what the rest of the universe is doing, don’t forget about what you are doing and what you WANT to be doing.

What do I want? I want a nice cup of tea in the evening while I’m arguing with my husband about what series we should watch. I want to grab lunch while we’re out running errands before we come home to spend quality time with the dog. I want to rearrange the pantry to make it more efficient. I want to snuggle up with my Kindle and my little family more often, without worrying about all the other things I could or should be doing. I want to be boring, and be old, and be married.

Maybe we did fall into the couples vortex and we’ll never get out, or maybe we’ve stumbled into normalcy, maturity and that elusive idea of happiness that felt so far off just last year. Either way, with us Chriss’ and the pug, we’ll always have our own, un-boring, un-old adventures…after our chores, errands and workdays are done…and so long as it’s not too late!

Lyrical Breakthroughs

Any of my readers can identify that I am a musical fiend. Music is as important to me as air and water. It is timeless, life changing, life affirming and healing. I listen to music and are moved the way people are moved by books, sermons, lessons, and ideas. Music is what I believe in most.

Sure I don’t like every band and genre out there but if it makes a difference in someone’s life, it’s worth everything. Lately my music has taken me on a pensive journey and today I would like to break it down into three chapters: The new, the old, and the ever-changing, if you will. These songs and their lyrics have just opened up some amazing though processes, helped heal some pain, reaffirm some beliefs, and bring some things to light and resolution.

Music is an all-powerful being. Let it be your guide and you will find amazing things. I can contest to that!

Chapter One: Full Circle

My sisters introduced me to an artist named Ben Kweller. He’s an indie-folk musician with some seriously elegant, yet simple lyrics that just always make me feel better. He recently released an album entitled “Go Fly A Kite,” and on it are two songs that sound similar in composition, but the lyrics just ring so true for where I am in my life. They lyrics are:

“As I burned all the books I read I recalled somethin,’ someone, somewhere said.‘There’s so much in us you don’t see.’ Don’t judge anyone because everybody comes full circle.
I’ve come full circle.

Sand-shark tooth girl won’t cry for you. She’s the kind of girl you just can’t bite through,Throws you into her mindless maze Locks you up for days, then she sits and says
“I’ve come full circle.” I’ve come full circle.

Runnin’ ‘round, pullin’ out your hair, When you’re sittin’ there in that captain’s chair,One eye always up on the fuzz, Now I’m havin’ fun sittin’ shotgun ‘cause
I’ve come full circle, I’ve come full circle.

Promenade, wooo Brooklyn Heights to the Marfa lights, Open sky, wooo, lay me down let yer sweetness surround. Electricity ground, I just can’t believe how I’ve come full circle, I’ve come full circle!”

Lately I’d been feeling like I’d come to a great and safe place in my life and when I heard this I thought, well maybe we have come full circle. Perhaps now that we’ve paid our dues and our in a place of restructure, renewal and rebirth we can have fun “sittin shotgun.” Everything in life is cyclical but it’s nice to feel like you’ve made it full circle.

The other song felt relevant because I’d recently discussed life changes with some of my very best girl friends. Friendships take all shapes and sizes. They are so unique. Some fizzle but never fade and other just fade into the background. When I heard the last track of Ben Kweller’s “Go Fly A Kite” album, I felt a bit better and it reaffirmed the relationships I’d fought for in the first place.

“You Can Count On Me” By Ben Kweller

“It’s a sad day ‘cause all my old friends have changed .I just want you to know that I’m still the same.
You can count on me, you can count on me. When you’re locked up and need to be set free, you can count on me.
It’s a broken clock; they got no time for you. All you need is a friend to tell secrets to, I’m here for you.
You can count on me, you can count on me .When you’re locked up and need to be set free, you can count on me
I’ve seen great people slip away, right before my eyes, they’re not here today.You should know that I won’t disappear on you! No more barricades or walls of emotional stone,No more dead-end streets that you walk down alone.
You can count on me, you can count on me. When you’re locked up and need to be set free, you can count on me.When you’re lost and you need new eyes to see, you can count on meI’ll help you follow through on all of you dreams, you can count on me.”

Most of our friends have changed! Not necessarily bad changes, but we grow and change daily but for certain people, things stay the same. I will always be there for my friends to set them free, especially when their other “friends” haven’t got the time for them. I have seen people just disappear but I won’t do that. I’m here to stand the test of time and when I’m feeling a little flaky or like I’m being a bad friend, a little listen to this tune just recharges all my positive energy!

Ben Kweller might be simple and relatively unknown but his lyrics are therapeutic to me, as all music should be!



Chapter Two: Fleetwood Mac Told My Story 30 Years Ago…And I Just Now Discovered It!

“Oooh, when we’re at the flea market we should look to see if they have Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rumours’ on Vinyl!,” I said to my husband one Saturday. He rolled his eyes and replied, “You only like that because of that damn Glee episode!” I looked appalled and ashamed all at once and said, “Hey, I’ve ALWAYS liked Fleetwood Mac!” It was that Glee episode that brought an epic album to my attention though; stupid television!

I don’t know why I didn’t see it 5 years ago. During a phase with my ex-best friend where we were in a friendship “gray area,” I used to drive him around a lot. He didn’t have his license so I’d help him out when I could. We could never agree on music so we often ended up listening to the oldies station and he used to sing the chorus to Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way,” in this high pitched obnoxious was that would make me turn it off and listen to whatever he chose. It was hilarious, cute and irritating all at the same time. But now that I hear the lyrics, I should have heeded the warning:

“Go Your Own Way” By Fleetwood Mac

“Loving you isn’t the right thing to do. How can I ever change things that I feel? If I could, baby I’d give you my world, how can I, when you won’t take it from me?
You can go your own way, go your own way. You can call it another lonely day!
Tell me why, everything turned around? Packing up, shacking up’s all you want to do. If I could, baby I’d give you my world. Open up; everything’s waiting for you!”

I should have gone my own way then! But instead it became like one big, long album of Fleetwood Mac masterpieces. Next on the proverbial playlist was “The Chain:”

“Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise, run in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies. And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, you will never break the chain…”

And he didn’t love me then, he’d never love me again, and I kept saying I’d never break the chain and in a way, with more Fleetwood Mac wisdom than I can really handle, “I Don’t Wanna Know:”

“I don’t wanna know the reasons why love keeps right on walking on down the line, I don’t wanna stand between you and love honey, I just want you to feel fine. Finally, baby, the truth has come down now, take a listen to your spirit, it’s crying out loud, try to believe. You say you love me but you don’t know. You got me rockin-and-a-reelin...”

And I didn’t want to know. I don’t think he did either. We went our “own ways.” And as a resolution to a tumultuous ending, I like to imagine that in the wake of it all, we’re “Never Going Back Again:”

“She broke down and let me in, made me see where I’ve been. Been down one time, been down two times, I’m never going back again. You don’t know what it means to win, come down and see me again, been down one time, been down two times, I’m never going back again.”

Even though we’ll never see each other, after years of my mind randomly wandering towards thoughts of what if, how, why, hope and wonder, these songs just put it all to rest for me. I guess it made me feel better knowing that these kinds of issues have always existed and that artists made such amazing musical poetry in recognition of them.

Chapter Three: Death Cab for Cutie’s Lyrics Are Timeless and Continuously Evolving

When I heard the band name, Death Cab for Cutie, I was like, “what!?” When I saw them, I thought, “okay, cool.” And then I really saw them, and I watched as Ben Gibbard commanded that stage and recited the most eloquent, poetic, musical tales I’d ever heard. To this DAY, I could never be sick of any of their music, and to THIS DAY, their songs continue to form new meaning for me, and reaffirm my love of music, not to mention make my personal life seem a little more interesting.

The following lyrics from a few different songs have resonated for me in life-changing ways:

“Codes and Keys”

“We won't get far, flying in circles inside a jarBecause the air we breathe, is thinning with the words that we speak, that we speak, you and me.You're on the floor, fearful of what's outside
your door, but the codes and keysThey can protect you, from the pangs of jealousy, when you scream, love you seeLike a child, throwing stones at the skyWhen they fall back to earth, as minor chords of major works; Separate rooms of single life: We are one, We are alive!”

When all else fails, remember that we’re human, and WE ARE ALIVE! With such amazing words to guide us!

The next song, “You Can Do Better Than Me,” is a song my husband and I agree is about us and is therefore, very revealing. What’s funny is we both thing that this song is written in our personal point of view, to each other. Some people may say it’s horrible and messed up but we find it…honest. And we’ve come a long way to honesty, so we appreciate Ben Gibbard honoring it so brilliantly:

“I’m starting to feel we stayed together out of fear of dying aloneI've been slipping through the years, my old clothes don't fit like they once didSo they hang like ghosts of the people I've beenI have to face the truth, that no one could ever look at me like you do like I'm something worth holding ontoThere’s times I think of leaving, but it's something I'll never do'Cause you can do better than me…But I can't do better than you.”

It may sound sad, depressing and kind of mean to some people but most relationships never meet their true realities, they live in partial darkness. I like to think of this song as our glimmer of light.

When I first heard the next selection I just thought the melody was pretty, but the more I listen to it, the more I realize how deep it all is. I feel like this song tells the story of my soul with a gorgeous harmony:

“The Marching Bands of Manhattan”

“If I could open my arms , and span the length of the isle of ManhattanI'd bring it to where you are making a lake of the East River and Hudson
If I could open my mouth, wide enough for a marching band to march outThey would make your name sing and bend through alleys and bounce off other buildings
I wish we could open our eyes, to see in all directions at the same time Oh what a beautiful view, if you were never aware of what was around you
And it is true what you said, that I live like a hermit in my own head But when the sun shines again, I'll pull the curtains and blinds to let the light in
Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole, just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you do, they're half empty and half full, it slowly rises,
Your love is gonna drown…your love is gonna drown”

Another amazing song that I have new appreciation for is called “What Sarah Said.” When I took my newest addition to the best friend club to her first Death Cab for Cutie concert, she went crazy when they played this. I’d originally thought it to be depressing, but after getting to know this new found friend, I saw her see this song live and be set free. I really listened to the lyrics and it just had a completely profound meaning. It’s true “What Sarah Said, love is watching someone die…”

“What Sarah Said”

“And it came to me then, that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time, as I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409 And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself, that I'd already taken to much today as each descending peak on the LCD, took you a little farther away from me, away from me...

Amongst the vending machines and year old magazines, in a place where we only say goodbye It's done like a violent limp that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds And I knew that you were truth, I would rather lose, than to have never laid beside at all Then I looked around at all the eyes on the ground, as the TV entertained itself

Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room, just nervous spaces bracing for bad news. Then the nurse comes round and everyone lifts their head I'm thinking of what Sarah said, love is watching someone die...So who's gonna watch you die?”

I find it morbidly beautiful and real…I could write on and on forever, but the point isn’t to bore you or make you fans of these bands. The point is that music is out there, readily available and can be more than just a tune or a distraction. Music is motivation, it’s truth, lies, fact, fiction, happy, said, mundane, interesting and amazing. It can embody everything all at once or even be nothing. It can lift up your day or bring you down to a deep place where you need to find yourself.

These songs have brought me so many experiences! Imagine what music could do for you! These are just three chapters of my life in music. What would you write in your music chapters? What will you hear? What will you see? What will the music do for you?

Angry Ali

I’ll be the first to admit I definitely have some anger issues, okay maybe I’m the second one; my husband may beat me to the admission. Some of it may even be misplaced anger, but with anger comes great passion, and that passion isn’t almost me, it’s ALL me. I can become insanely passionate about certain things, more often than not the passion exists for people, and when those anger monkeys come crawling on my back, that red hair sets on fire and my Irish evil twin comes out to take names and kick ass.

Now I’ve had my slap fights, a few kicks and bouts of wrestling and pushing, threw a freakishly small fist out once or twice, but mostly my anger wars are contained in verbal form. If I can make you feel like an idiot, I win. As a child, my parents were all about telling it like it is, but with a lot of irony, sarcasm and cynicism, carefully crafted jabs can also come full circle and take away the sting of a good burn. My uncle calls it, “TDC, Thinly Disguised Contempt,” and I’ve become and expert.

The people who know and love me unconditionally, would say you can read my expression like a book. Others seem bewildered by my sense of humor, and just write me off. Most people find me amusing at least. I had a coworker say once, that she wished she could just be silly and sarcastic, just like me because I can hide how serious I’m being with a little laughter, but still get my point across without stamping a huge, red “Bitch” on my forehead. Now, my angry, sarcastic attitude has certainly gotten me in trouble but it’s also kept certain things in check.

Despite the above admission, I do know when to hold my tongue, I know when to just smile and nod but most people…just…piss…me…off! In general, I HATE PEOPLE as a whole. They are obnoxious, and I definitely lose it every now and then from the stupidity of the masses. When I’m angry I make jokes ranging from the mean to the downright offensive, but if it boosts morale, hey, it’s a job well done.

What’s funny is, I was a nanny for 10 years. I have infinite patience for children, but adults are not my strong suit. I spend nights worrying that my anger will mold into hatred and I will become one of those people who can no longer find the good, but then I remember that if I can laugh through the frustration, I’ll see the light again. And so, Almost Angry Ali becomes comic relief.

I’ve almost let my angry whims get the best of me. I’ve almost had my anger take a completely destructive form. I’ve almost been saved by those angry and hurtful things others have said, done to, and thought of me. I’ve almost let my anger allow me to surrender, but an angry Alison is a passionate one and so long as I can find that balance, I’ll be almost human.

Twenty Something, Or Twenty Nothing?

I’m about to be 27, which is not a big deal but I’m definitely feeling that sense of the looming “adult” set in. Maybe it’s the new apartment and the hubby’s new job, or maybe, “GASP,” my biological clock is actually tick-tocking to the point that I’ll have to face it, one way or another.

For years now I’ve felt like, bring on age 30, what’s the big deal? Bring on the mortgage payment, a screened in porch, bottle of wine, and kids asleep with my man in his recliner burping up high life and complaining about work. I’m ready! I’m sick of living paycheck to paycheck, sick of credit cards substituting savings accounts. I’m ready for the family-economy wagon, worrying about what to make for dinner instead of dropping another $20 bucks on take out, and I’m super ready to feel a sense of home outside of the physical realm that is wherever my husband and the dog are.

Life is never what you think it will be, this much I know in my nearly thirty years of life on this planet. You can plan and set goals all you want but life changes from moment to moment. It’s best to just go with the flow. 10 years ago, my view of the world was completely different. I had completely different ideas of what I wanted or needed and I certainly could’ve never guessed I’d end up where I am now.

Some days I get bummed out that I don’t have a big, grown up, high paying job. True to the Lodjic-girl way, my father raised three smart girls with hefty educations and degrees who don’t work in their field and don’t get to use that degree for more than making others feel stupid from time to time. Unlike my sisters, however, I adopted the Chriss name so at least I have that to make “the cheese stand alone.”

There is something strangely gratifying about working for a living; going into work, coming home and having a steady paycheck. There’s something even more gratifying about looking back at where my husband and I evolved from. My man literally started in a dish pit and is now a head chef, menu creator and pioneer of a brand new, hit restaurant in the Tampa Bay area. I was a spoiled brat with dreams of being an overpriced, bitch lawyer who desperately wanted to go to Pepperdine or Berkeley who ended up at University of Oregon with a Magazine Journalism degree and married to the best man she’d ever met before 30. I once vowed that I would never marry before 30 and almost asked my best friend who is gay to give me some of his genetics so we could created the most sassy child on the planet and I would be a bad-ass single mother conquering the professional world. Clearly I watch too many films of this nature, but life certainly does write its own tune and we’re just singing along!

It definitely doesn’t help that all over Facebook are friends creating families and careers that make my commission-based position look like a promotion at McDonald’s, but another thing I’ve learned is that you either work to live, or live to work and we kind of walk that line. But with that TICK, TOCK that don’t stop also comes the haunting question: Are you a Twenty-SOMETHING or a Twenty-NOTHING?

Define something and nothing? I feel like we’ve got something…at least a little something going for us. We’re certainly able to triumph over the dramatics of this life, even though more often than not we’re the creators of such things. We are able to still love each other even when we really want to scream and throw things. And, we are always able to laugh. We’ve even managed to find some amazing people to laugh at us, with us and around us along the way.

In terms of nothing, well this is certainly nothing like what we’d imagined all those years ago. My man was supposed to be a rocking drummer in a famous band and we’d occasionally meet on tour when I was covering other bands and writing for Rolling Stone magazine. After that dream was squashed we were going to put my man in a high-priced culinary school and live with family to save up for our dreams while I got a fabulous job in Miami or West Palm and a prominent publication. Then that went up in smoke we just planned a wedding, a cross-country move and said, “We’ll just figure out the rest when we get there,” and we did, and we have.

Now I’m not under and magical illusion that we didn’t need some help along the way. We certainly had a lot of support from our friends, family and loved ones but we’ve nearly mastered the art of dealing with the piles of inconvenient happenings that life creates on a regular basis. I’ve said it once before and I’ll say it again, the storm we can handle, it’s the calm that makes us uneasy.

I think that for a twenty-something couple, us Chriss’s are doing pretty well at making sure that we are more than just some twenty-nothings in debt, in doubt and in denial but certainly love embracing our cynicism and sarcastic side to make the bad days feel a little lighter.

We had our moments of nothing, our loss of loved ones in our family, saying goodbye to friends and the people we once couldn’t picture not being part of our lives. But from that nothingness came something, the stuff of which bore our amazing relationship. I still sit back in awe from time to time at how we’ve come to be us, how we’ve creating this “something.”

So yeah, our twenties may be on the down-slope and we may have days where we have no idea where we’re going but at least we’ll have each other for the ride, and that’s definitely a “something” for our twenties, rather than a nothing!