No Foolin', Boss.

Check out what's happening soon in Holland.
www.tictockstudios.com

The governor is about to sign a bill giving major tax incentives to filmmakers. I'd like to give her a hug.


Only four days till Christmas :) . Our house is cozy, traditions are developing, and I only have a few presents left to buy.
The Christmas tree that the girls decorated themselves is casting a golden glow against their chalkboard wall, illuminating oddly shaped creatures and undecipherable messages.
Both girls are in their beds, supposed to be taking a brief nap before I load us all into the car for the trek across town to work.
Listen - from their room? Silence. Rich, rare..silence. A peaceful hush.
And that, friends, is my Christmas miracle.
:)
Ooh,wait - And coffee. Good strong coffee, big coffee before work. I can have two Christmas miracles in one day, can't I?

The following words are not mine - I stole them from a comment my Mom left on Cousin Elizabeth's blog.
.......................................................................................

Ginger isn't real impressed with winter. She played outside Saturday, reluctantly, for about 10 minutes. When we came inside, she was crying and asking for bandaids for her fingers: "They hurt!!! I need bandaids!!"
Sunday she woke up and asked me if winter was all over now...I said " Oh, honey, it's just getting started." She crawled under the kitchen table and cried. I lured her out by telling her there are places where it never snows and she can live wherever she wants when she grows up. She wants to go live with Dora, Diego and Alicia.
Willow says she has decided she doesn't want to be just one thing when she grows up, but "lots of things: a book maker, a movie maker, a swim teacher, a firefighter and a road builder. Maybe more." I asked her if she thought about being an artist, and she said "I'm not going to be an artist, I am an artist."

.......................................................


The girls and I had a fabulous day together(my words now). Tons of laughter, inventing car games, shopping for gifts(without exhaustion and frustration!), and hours of fun at Chuck E. Cheese's(yes, folks: my love for W & G is such that I am able to have FUN with them even in that place..even with that permeating unidentifiable odor..even with the seven foot mechanical mouse{shiver}). Tomorrow night we're decorating the house for Christmas. We'll be joined by Elvis, Bing, and Louie. And possibly the Grinch. No word yet on whether Nat or Frank will make an appearance.

California girls

I don't write much lately. Frankly, I haven't even thought much lately. I'm too tired.
Every day is a litany of the predictable things...A child wakes in the night, gets tucked back in, stumble back to couch, alarm goes off, hit snooze, hit snooze, hit snooze, chaos, school, errands, pick up Willow, grab a snack, drop off at childcare, running late, uniform's wrinkled again, punch in, time blurs/drags/flies(depends on the day),punch out, head for home, inevitable detour, pack the next day's lunch, wait for the day's rattle to stop in my head, sleep...a child wakes in the night, repeat..

But I swear, every day the predictable is punctuated by irreplaceable moments, and I swear I intend to write them down at the end of the day. Thing is, the end of the day comes and all that's in my head is the dust trail behind those moments, because they're long gone.

I know what I want to do with my life. I have a plan. There's just so much standing in the way. In one year, we'll be living in LA. Under a roof, with a car that runs. I'll be auditing classes and finding my way into school at Playhouse West. Willow and Ginger will be in a great Montessori school, and we'll be a part of the Mosaic community. And I will fight whatever obstacles lie in the way of my lifelong education and exploration.

I know most people in my life don't believe this(moving to LA, pursuing acting) can or should happen. People who love us and whose opinions I have tremendous respect for. I've got their voices in my head; I hear their concerns loud and clear.

I have to go do it anyway. I think it would be sad to go through my life not knowing what it feels like to fully commit to the thing you love doing. The One Thing. I think it would be tragic to know what your One Thing is, and settle for anything else.

And I want more than anything to help my daughters find their way in this world. To discover whatever their One Thing might end up being. I want them to know that the world is huge and nothing is off-limits to them as they consider their futures. By throwing myself into a seemingly impossible dream, they will hopefully learn that they can do the same.

When I feel the vacuum of Perpetually Exhausted Mom-Lady beckoning, all I have to do is remind myself that Willow and Ginger are watching me for an answer to a question they don't even know they're asking yet. I hope the answer I deliver over the years to come is, "Yes, Love. Keep going. You *can* do it. "

Sometimes when I walk on the pier, I close my eyes and hear the waves on both sides, wind on metal,
constant...the sound of a fish splashing, a sea gull's piercing call,
scattered across the lull of water and wind, impossible to predict or control. Walking there, eyes closed, every step putting more distance between me and everything that threatens, my heart is deeply settled.

Lately, Willow is the queen of one-liners. What makes them great is the absolute seriousness with which she delivers them, having no idea how funny they are. Here's a couple from last night's drive (Mom and I decided these would make great titles/subtitles for a new genre of literature..books written by children for adults):

Maybe There's a Skunk in That Forest..or maybe we just ran over one.

When You See a Bright Star Flashing in the Night..it's just an airplane.

I was laughing so hard picturing the illustrations.

.............
Recently we had to say goodbye to our family dog, Dudlee. There are some nice pictures of her last hoorah at my mom's blog. And a kind of weird website dedicated to her here.

............

And now, a shameless plea for help. I need a Friday night babysitter(while I'm at work) every other week starting next Friday. Are there any Aunts, Cousins, or girlfriends out there who would like to make a little cash spending a few quality hours with the girls twice a month? Even if you can only do it once in a while, I would like to talk to you! Give me a call or email if you're interested in helping. I can't pay much but could barter my skills as an artist or manual laborer!

I'm about to go to Chicago for the weekend for a class at Second City Improv. There will be plenty of opportunities for me to make a fool of myself doing what I love. The fact that I'm scared means it will be just what I've been needing the past few months. Since shooting the film in Indiana in March, I haven't had any acting work..and very little time to myself to devote to study and growth. Going so long without tangible progress feels a bit like a case of outrageous cabin fever. I need to get *out*, to stretch and breathe in the thing I was made to do. I need to keep learning and persisting. I know so little about acting, and it will take my whole life to find out what it's about. I don't want to waste any time that could be spent exploring. There are stories to tell, and I don't just want to watch other people telling them.
Improv is terrifying to me. So I can't wait to jump in with both feet.

As much as I look forward to the class, and spending time in the city, I'm *most* excited about seeing my sister Mary(one of my favorite people on the planet). I met her when she was a camper in my cabin the first summer I worked at Center Lake Bible Camp. We as counselors weren't supposed to have 'favorite' campers..but secretly I did. She was(even at that awkward age)poised, thoughtful and confident. She was kind, focused, funny and engaging. I wished I could keep her.
Now as a woman she's all those things and more. Her character and opportunities grew with age. Trips to Romania, Hungary, Dominican Republic, Turkey..soon Japan. Shooting a student film in the Bahamas, studying, tutoring kids, volunteering, sleeping not enough. That's just Mary.
I still consider getting her as a sister two years later one of the most fortunate gifts of my life. There's really so much more I'd have to say in order for you to understand..but I'm too busy getting ready to go hang out with my sister. You'll just have to read her blog.
:)

The recent trip to Mackinac Island with my aunt Jen and cousin Kelly was about more than revisiting. It was about reclaiming..
Growing up, our up-north trips were tradition, and some of the best memories of my childhood are woven through them. Some things would change from year to year, like which vehicle we were cramming into, which aunts were taking us, which cheap hotels we'd stay in.
Oh, the hotels. You guys have *no* idea - when it comes to The Art of The Cost-Effective Road Trip , my family has the market cornered.
There was the year we stayed in a stellar room at the Normandy and noticed a door next to our bed that opened into the dark backlot...and didn't lock from the inside.
The pool that turned my hair a memorable shade of green..Several years before I hit the age where I would have thought it edgy and cool.
The 'cottage' in Topannobee which was so dirty we swam in the lake after our showers to feel clean..er. Sometimes it's a good idea to sleep on top of the sheets.

Even frugal travelers enjoy the occasional splurge, though. Like the first time I ever slept on the island. The Lilac Tree Hotel with it's yellow and purple decor and fantastic shower soap..
I still remember waking up to the sound of horses running loose down the cobblestone streets below my window.

You could count on a stop at Manley's fish in St. Ignace for smoked salmon and whitefish. Along with some smoked Gouda and crackers, it was a feast we'd look forward to all year.



.........
Somewhere along the way, we lost the tradition for a while. We all had our own distractions, reasons, struggles.

I went there as a nineteen yr old bride. When my marriage ended I wondered if I could ever feel the same way about the place again. There's a picture of me by this white fence on a bike, overlooking the harbor.
And my honeymoon smile is beaming into the camera, completely full of joy and implicit trust. The gray October sky in the photo the only sign of the freezing rain I was impervious to at the time. The photo is hard to look at now, as are so many others from the beginning. Hard to see that happy girl who had no idea what kind of story she was entering.
In the trips I've taken there since, I've never seen that spot. Looked for it a couple of times, but never could find it.
Hiking with Jen and Kelly, I reached out my hand to brace against a white fence and rest a moment, and when I looked up I realized I was standing exactly where the photo had been taken. I stood there with the sun on my face, alone, no cameras. And covered an old footprint with a new one.
This trip was a way of recapturing our claim on the island's place in our lives. Three independent women, all coming full circle in unique ways.

blah,blah,blah...

there are times when I look around me and think all the women begin to look the same.the same trendy shoulder-length hair. same caramel-colored highlights..even mannerisms adopted while watching favorite celebrities. and it seems..bland.
the women, the men, the towns..i strain my eyes to see past the bleak film that coats them. and threatens to coat me as well.
right now, pretty much everything i own fits into a few rubbermaid containers,and i like it that way. i don't want a house in a subdivision or a kate spade handbag or a creative memories life. nothing wrong with any of those things..but surely they're not for everyone?
i think what bothers me is this: those women that begin to look alike aren't. each of them is a world all on her own..full of history and future potential. she brings something that noone else can. but it's hard to see the precious things through the caramel-colored highlights.
the film of sameness.

the thing i wonder is, do i try to clean the film off everything around me?
or just my eyes?

A Long-Awaited Dose of Acting..maybe.

Whoever designed the Greyhound website should have to pay me for the time I wasted there this morning..
Sparing the details, we'll just say it is not user friendly.

I've been trying to arrange travel plans for a class I'm hoping to take in Chicago next month. I've been typing in arrival times and station codes for an hour..seeing fares anywhere from 17 dollars to 96 dollars..travel times from 2 hrs to 13 hrs..

Amtrak wins for ease of use, better prices, and not being trapped onboard for an entire day.
But you have to pay online with a credit card, and I'm a cash purchaser..
I'd drive but I'm fairly sure the little blue car wouldn't make it.
Anyone up for a roadtrip?(translation: Anyone want to drive a girl to Chicago Thursday night October 5th? )
hmm..I'm off to figure stuff out..
Have a beautiful day!

I think the reason I've been posting so sparsely this year is that it's very difficult to post pictures. I don't have a way to do it at home, and getting to a library or friend's house seems to pose a challenge with my schedule...so many stories I haven't told you as a result.

This weekend I'm going up north with my aunt Jen and cousin Kelly. I am so looking forward to their company, and seeing Mackinac Island again.
The smells: leather, lake breeze, chocolate, fuel, lilacs, horses, cedar, pine trees...
The sounds: buckles jingling, hooves clomping, bicycles ringing their bells, boat horns, music, lapping waves, seagulls..
I can't wait. I'm bring two books; one that I've been trying to get through for months and hope to finish, and another (a novel) that I may start if I get through the first one.
....................................................................................

When Willow was three years old and you asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would say without hesitation,
" A pilot. I'll fly planes."

Today I asked Ginger, now three, the same question. She answered without hesitation,
" A Seagull Monkey."

Two girls, two temperaments, both dead serious about their answers.
I love it. ;)

Today was Willow's first day of Kindergarten. A *highly* anticipated event in our household. Every day for weeks she's been asking for a countdown, culminating in an early-morning wakeup time today.
This is the kid who normally(like me, like Grandma) needs a lot of ..personal space.. in the morning. Time to acclimate to the universe at large. Time to come to terms with the prospect of wakefulness.
When it comes to my Mom and me, we're kind of antisocial until we've stared at a wall with coffee in our hands for a while.
When it comes to Willow, who is still too young for caffeine..the only remedy is time.
So I was surprised when I barely touched her shoulder this morning and she shot bolt upright in bed, exclaiming groggily," THANK- YOU- FOR -WAKING -ME- UP- MOM- I -NORMALLY- DO -NOT- WAKE -UP -EARLY- VERY -OFTEN -BUT- I'M -GLAD- I'M- UP!"

Just about gave me a heart attack.

She knew it was The Big Day.

My Willow chose her outfit, ate her breakfast, and headed off to grow up way too fast with a big grin on her face.
She did great, by the way. She was relaxed and cheerful, happy to tell me about her classroom and teacher.
I took pictures, smiled, waved madly, and waited till I drove away to cry.

So today I find myself celebrating Willow, her beautiful courageous heart and who she is becoming.

But cursing Time for slipping by with so little consideration for the hearts of mothers

Today in the car Ginger and I were listening to a glorious piece of violin/harpsichord music on the radio..one that I have never heard before, whose name I didn't catch.
Somewhere in the second movement, this dreamy voice from the back seat asked," Are the ballerinas dancing, Mama?"
I turned around to look at her and smiled when I saw her face. Her gaze was turned toward me but those pure blue eyes were seeing something else.
"Do you mean - the ones in your imagination?", I ventured.
She nodded in time to the prancing harpsichord, and I understood.

"Yes, honey, they're dancing. This beautiful music makes them want to dance, doesn't it?", I answered, my heart suddenly stricken with love for her(you know those moments, parents?).

"You see them too?", she breathed.
I realized that she was now actually looking at me, wondering how I could possibly..
"Yes, I can see them - they are dancing more slowly now,aren't they? There's one whose face I can see..and she looks just exactly like..Ginger! And she's my favorite dancer of them all."
Her eyes twinkled with pride and amusement for an instant. The next moment, her expression had resumed a faraway softness with the addition of a slight smile, and stayed that way till the end of the song.

A step, though stressful, toward independence....

Thursday I woke up with one frantic thought: I have to buy a car TODAY.
I had an appointment at noon to drive a Lumina. The owner was a creepy downtown guy who acted a bit paranoid on the phone..he stopped me mid - sentence to ask me suspiciously *where* I was getting my questions(crazy questions like ' what year is the car..how many miles...the last major repair...reason for selling..).
He never showed up for our appointment, but I have a feeling he was watching me in terror through binoculars from some nearby window...
As I drove away I felt like crying but forced myself to stay positive.
At 1:30 I had another appointment, this time to test drive a station wagon which belonged to an acquaintance of an acquaintance. When I showed up, she informed me that the car didn't run - but if I would just buy it right then..she knew someone who would fix it 'real cheap'.
As I drove away I felt like crying but held back the tears and stopped at my aunt's church to call home. Maybe someone had returned my phone calls about an ad in the paper..
No such luck.
As I walked out he door of my aunt's church, I started to cry.
After I got it together, I drove north and passed a car that looked perfect(perfect price, too)..But noone was home to answer the phone, and since I *had* to get a car immediately.. I kept driving.
A few minutes later I pulled into a small dealership - the kind you drive past all your life and never notice.
I saw a little blue car parked in the back, and it was the cheapest one there.
When the salesman walked out to greet me, I fed him the lines I had been rehearsing with feigned confidence: "I am going to buy a car today. It may or may not be here."
I test drove the car, called my bank, returned to the lot and offered $500 less than he was asking(like I had been coached to do). He said no.
I didn't flinch, but said I would take my business elsewhere, turned, and began to leave.
I walked away, waiting for him to stop me, as I had been told to expect.
He didn't.
I drove away, my last hopes dashed.
I made a tearful phone call, feeling totally inept. the rest is a long story, but I went back, negotiated, bluffed, and ended up getting the car.
I picked it up from the lot today, and the cute little beater is growing on me.
I felt sick going into debt...but at least it runs.
Accomplishment&independance vs. financial anxiety&dependence...
There always seems to be two sides to the coin..

.......
So, I have a car!! :) Thanks to those of you who sent your prayers :)




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I looked at my mom this afternoon over the top of the chair we were carrying, both of us covered in grimy dust from the morning's work.

"We're a couple of scrappy women, you know that?", I said proudly.

She grinned at me, looking tired and strong and very beautiful.

We tossed the chair up over the side of the dumpster she rented yesterday. After a few hours of sorting and hauling, stomping and arranging, it now sits full(impossibly full) in the driveway. And the shed that was a catch-all for years is empty, swept, and much bigger that we remembered it being.

It got me thinking:
Sometimes we hold onto things so much longer than we need to, long after they've exhausted their usefulness. They are in the corners, piled together, occupying so much space in our hearts..
Maybe we forget how all that space was intended to be used.
But with a little letting go and throwing out..if we're willing to do the dirty grimy kind of work..
Soon we begin to see that our hearts are much bigger than we remembered them being.

I don't know if I've ever cried as hard during a movie as I did tonight watching A Family Stone...or why this one affected me this way.

But I'm still crying, and the movie's been over for some time.

I don't remember exactly when the tears started; only that once they started, they wouldn't stop.

Dear God, please send a car. The end.

I haven't had a car since spring. That's pretty tough.
I really
really really
really
need a car before Willow starts kindergarten in two weeks.
Her school is a twenty - five minute drive one way from where we live.
I also drive that far to work all week.
In two weeks, I'll be making that trip up to four times a day.
My mom will go back to her job in the school system as well.
She will bring her truck with her.

There is a clicking noise in my head when I try to think of how that's going to work(click)
if I don't get(click) a car.....it feels a lot like math.

I'm pretty sure that's my brain breaking.


............................................................................................................................

P.S.
I can afford to pay 1,000 dollars. If you're selling a car that gets really good mileage and will be reliable, I would like to buy it. Yesterday.

Friendisms..

a long, long time ago, a friend sent me these words in the mail:

You can make more friends in two months by becoming more interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.
~ Dale Carnegie

Whether you are blessed with soulmates...or with those who walk with you just a little while, not one of these friends crosses your path by chance. Each is a messenger, sent by God, to give you the wisdom, companionship, comfort, or challenge you need for a particular leg of your spiritual journey.
~ Traci Mullins


True friends don't spend their time gazing into each other's eyes. They may show great tenderness toward each other, but they face in the same direction - toward common projects, interests, goals - above all, to a common Lord.
~ Clive Staples Lewis

And my favorite..

We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop there is at last a drop which makes it run over, so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over.
~ Samuel Johnson

This morning I've been a bit off-kilter. It seems that upon first waking, I drank an entire pot of coffee.

My girls are in the kitchen eating tomatoes like they're candy. I never get tired of that.
Actually, today, I never get tired of anything.
Because I'm not tired.
Good coffee.

I get through my day one drink at a time.

I am convinced that Beauty exists all around me in places most of us have forgotten to look.

The texture of my daughter's unbelievably soft pink bedspread, thousands of delicate strings, like overgrown terrycloth, crinkled mountains of light and shadow.

All my life I've thirsted for It, been nourished by It..

The sound of a violin's aching strings or the intensely green blade of grass..

At times when little things in my life are out of balance, but the most important elements are at peace, it is easy for me to see Beauty in vast proportions - the expanse of the sky, the constellations, the feeling of earth's life whirring in the air.
At times when the most important elements of my life are in transition or upended altogether, but smaller sections of it remain vibrant, growing..I crave Beauty in the tiniest things - the smooth coolness of tree bark under my palm, a drop of water on the hood of a car, the splashes of color scattered across the dress I'm wearing now..

I believe that Beauty wants us to see it, and rewards us when we approach.


The darkest moments of my life have been when I couldn't see It anywhere. Although rare, I hope never to return to that terrifying void.



So every day, I want to pay attention - without fail, as I lay in the quiet which comes just before sleep, I am aware of either fullness or depletion in my soul. Some nights I just lay there feeling thirsty, and I know that I did not take enough time to drink in the Beauty available within arm's reach. The nights are best when a nourished soul dances behind my smiling eyes, and I sleep knowing that there is an endless supply to satisfy the ever-returning thirst.


Don't say It's not there. There's more than enough, in places we forgot to expect.
You just have to remember what it's like to drink.

The girls and I have just returned from our first all-girl roadtrip. We headed up to Ludington for two days of beach and family. All of us are happy, tired, a little too much sun. We ate a trough of ice cream at the House of Flavors - I don't want to see ice cream again for a very long time. Actually, that's a lie. I could handle some right now. Really, anything cold sounds acceptable..Michigan has had a killer week of heat, and this little house is a little too cozy without AC.

Last night after the kids were in bed, I settled in with my adult (when did that happen?!?) cousins Jessica and Amanda to watch Amelie'. Beautiful, whimsical storytelling...several absolute no-prior-warning freak out moments..altogether one of my favorite recent films.

I started running again this week. Red-faced, chest on fire, flailing like a mad-woman chased by a cougar. It's been two years since I've run with any regularity, and I've never been any good at it, really..but once I get past the first few weeks of torture it begins to be a meditative window in my routine. No other form of exercise has helped my moods or improved my strength as quickly and thoroughly. I have always loved it - once I get past the strong, *strong* urge to quit.
Hopefully this time, I will learn some skills that may help me improve and continue. If any of you readers are also runners, feel free to help me along by sharing your tips! Or actually carrying me while you run. That would be ok too.

I am afraid of my dryer.

For the past long while, the buzzer has been broken, causing it to buzz longer than it should at the end of each cycle. Minutes, hours, days if you left it alone..
In keeping with our family's 'adapt and move on' mentality, we did not call a repairperson. Rather, we began unplugging it to make the grating sound stop.
Sunday morning, I leaned behind the dryer with my hand on the settings knob, and my shoulder brushing the furnace. With my free hand I pushed the plug into the electrical socket and..
Blue ribbons of electricity leapt from the outlet *AND* the settings knob where my other hand was. I felt the knob crackling under my fingers, and got a nice big shock before I was able to let go. Apparently I make a better conduit for electricity than the actual cord(I didn't touch the metal prongs. I have no idea what happened.)
I walked it off, felt something akin to a caffeine buzz for a few hours, and went to work.
...................
In other news, this morning after nearing the point of death in my first - ever spin class..
I walked out into the parking lot, approached my mom's tan truck(which I had borrowed), opened the door and prepared to toss my backpack into the carseat on the passenger side..
..except..
Where the carseat should have been sat a big, clearly bewildered black lab.
We were both very surprised to see one another.
It turns out, it was the dog's truck. Mine was parked on the other side of the lot.
I laughed so hard I could hardly make it to the correct vehicle.
....................
In retrospect, do you think these two events could be related? hmm.

Upon finding the feral child..

..crouched under the kitchen table

early in the morning

naked

wild-haired

scooping yogurt from a container

eating it with her hands

trail mix on the floor

celery thrown aside

cherub cheeks

cornflower eyes

defiant

matter-of-fact

for the hundredth time

..........................................................
she'll make your blood boil.
she'll make your heart melt.

Verbatim(or: I think I just threw up a little)

I heard this evangelist promoting her latest series about how to get God's favor. She smiled as she described how you don't need everyone to like you, just the *right* person to like you..and that God will influence people who will in turn go out of their way to bless you, and they won't even know why they're doing it. The gist of the whole series seemed to be that basically, if you make God happy, people will give you stuff that you want.
And I quote:
The favor of God can cause you to get that front row parking space at the mall!
Thanks, Kate McVeigh..I can hardly wait to cash in on .. divine favor.

Today Ginger casually remarked:

" Sometimes Tummy wants cheese, so it gets some out of the fridge..but I say, 'NO!!, Tummy! PUT that BACK! .. "

This comment drew much laughter from the rest of us, since G( who, I assure you, has never wanted for predictable nourishment) has a habit of raiding the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning for inexplicable reasons. We often find a trail of yogurt containers, cheese wrappers, berry stems...soy milk..

We now have a bit of insight into the inner dialogue she deals with as she stands before the refrigerator door. At least she tells Tummy to do the right thing...waiting for the nourishing breakfast that always arrives when the rest of the family rises..
Whatever 'Tummy' says back, though, must be very convincing..given the frequency of our messy morning discoveries.

..........................................................................

Too tired...can't ..type..

I've posted a short bit on my other blog, and now to bed with me. 'night. :)
xanga.com/rosekat

good news, at long last

Monday afternoon, I spent time emptying my storage unit, which I can no longer afford to keep. It was exhausting and emotional to once again place my hands on all the 'stuff' that filled our family's home before our hurried relocation last fall. Several times, beginning with the day some friends and I filled a U-HAUL van, I have forced myself to leave behind anything that doesn't really matter..
The first time was the hardest, because my first inclination was to leave *everything* behind except the contents of the girls' room, to never look back at anything that represented the life I had lost. But I knew that I was in shock, and that such a radical decision would surely be one I'd kick myself for later.
So we filled the moving van, and brought all the belongings that I thought might be important or needed to furnish a small apartment.
We never got the small apartment, so I rented storage. It turns out, I was glad I hadn't just walked away from that former life and the 'things' that populated it in one fell swoop. Over the course of the past year, I have periodically gone to the storage unit alone, and sorted through each object, saying goodbye little by little. I have taken several boxes at a time to various charities, and for the first time truly understood the value of those few things worth keeping.
Now what remains of those slow goodbye's sits in the driveway, waiting for the truck that will carry it off to ValuLand this Friday. Fully sorted through, it turns out that all the belongings that matter most fit into a few rubbermaids. The rest, enough to fill two pickup trucks, waits quietly under a tarp. Frames, linens, furniture, beads, candles, wind chimes..things endowed with the past.
Last night, like that first moving day, was painful. When Willow saw the decorations and furniture from our old house(for the first time since we lived there), she remembered much more than I thought she would. We both cried, and I held her tightly. I tried to help her understand that those things represent very good memories, and it's ok to have strong, surprising feelings when you see them..but that they are just 'things'. I hugged her and told her that we will keep all the great memories, but that we'll also make new ones. I told her that someday when we have our own apartment, we'll have so much fun finding creative ways to make it feel like home. And that the best things from that house are with us , and always will be : us.
She's only five - she may not have understood all of that..but she did understand the hug, and the shared tears, and the reassurance. I guess I was talking to both of us.

I am ready now to say farewell to the things in the driveway. And the stuff I'm still not ready to part with sits in a box, waiting to be sorted again on another day. I've come to realize that letting go of these objects entails a slow goodbye..and I'm ok with that.

Later in the evening, I received some very good news. I got the job that has been so needed, and will be starting right away! I am so deeply grateful...for progress. :)

And, by the way, for you. Thanks for reading, and caring what happens in our lives.

Thursday afternoon, I took one final look to make sure I had what I needed:

Tattered but trusty backpack from 1998 (originally used to lug books through the halls of the local community college)..
A few changes of clothes..
My 15 dollar Keds, which carried me 13.5 miles over pavement for the Global Night Commute(and have sentimental value which makes up for what they lack in attractiveness)..
Yoga Mat(which has never once been used for yoga)..
Sleeping bag..
My compact, lightweight tent..

And the most important thing - my traveling buddy Carma :) ..

We took off for Interlochen and enjoyed our freedom for two whole days. The first day was, for both of us, a gradual process of letting go of our anxieties and guilt (if you're a mom, you know the kind of guilt I mean: any time you are away from your kids doing something just for you..a nagging voice that says you don't deserve to relax). The campsites were beautiful at only $12 per night. Right next to the Fine Arts Camp, overlooking the lake.
We discovered that it is actually possible for a tent, when set up incorrectly, to look exactly like a giant taco. My cheap little tent was a no-brainer, but hers was of higher quality and more complex construction..we could have perhaps set it up more quickly had we not been paralyzed with laughter.
Saturday we hiked our way through six miles of forest..and later ate *lots* of delicious, unhealthy food at the Hofbrau. For a classy splurge, we toasted our friendship by the campfire over travel mugs of Boone's Farm Sangria..

I love roadtrips because there are no rules. I firmly believe that roadtrips on a miniscule budget are the best kind (the only kind I've ever known)..

When in doubt, drive North. :)

Hoping, Hoping..

I've been looking for a job since September..there is one specific place that I've been repeatedly checking with, to no avail..I would love to work there, so I keep dropping in and leaving notes, trying to get past the "We're not hiring right now" barrier..

Today I got the interview. It seemed to go very well. I *really* hope it leads to the job.

Great hours, great perks, and the chance to develop skills that will make me a more marketable performer..

Please work out. Please work out.

Also, Willow has been moved off the waiting list and into the class of a fantastic school where I believe she'll flourish this fall! And it's free! :)

If personal blogs make you uncomfortable, this is the perfect time to jump to another site like this one(thank you, Ryan, for getting me hooked). It's especially fun when you get in a tug-of-war over the most popular adjectives...you'll know what I mean when you get there.

..........

It's been nine months since my marriage ended. The divorce papers are filed, and in about six months, it should be final.

When I turned 18, I was working at Center Lake as a counselor for the ranch campers. I remember standing on the steps of the dining hall with my cabin of girls; their faces still dirty from their morning at the barn, breaking into song in front of the whole camp( tradition for campers and staff). I joined in, looking around to see who the poor shmuck was that we would be embarrassing...til they got to the name part and I realized it was me. I remember standing there thinking, "I got halfway through my 18th birthday without even knowing it. I am actually being *told* that it's my birthday."
To me, that summer afternoon was just another day.... except...
My mother gave me a special ring of white gold and diamonds and sapphires..the symbol of her love and belief in who I was becoming. I have kept that ring all these years and now as a parent, I look forward to continuing that story with my daughters as they become strong women.
It's funny - just today I remembered that it was given to me for my birthday.. it looms in my history as a separate event , which far overshadows the memory of actually turning 18.
At the end of this month, I will turn 26 years old.
For the first time maybe ever, I am acutely aware of this approaching passage. The date stares at me from the calendar in the kitchen.
The reason is simple - I am ready for 25 to be gone. It's been the hardest year of my life and I cannot *wait* to kiss it goodbye.
It's not rational, it won't change my given circumstances. I'll still need a job and a car and a place of our own.
But it symbolizes our ability to survive. The dreaded 25 will be gone, behind us, a year we'll never have to do again.
It symbolizes hope. The belief that this year will be better, ahead of us, a year we've never done before.

So you think you can dance?

I just finished watching this show, and felt the same reverence I do every time I see a truly gifted dancer performing from their heart.
After, I danced around the house like I had the gift. Seriously - you should have seen it.

Stop laughing.

If you were at Erin's wedding reception last weekend, you understand how much I do NOT have the gift.
My lack of dance training/talent is usually not glaringly obvious. Because I don't put myself in .. dancing situations. In fact, until last weekend, I had never been out dancing(unless you count the school cafeteria after football games). So, other than a feeling of general wistfulness and New Years' resolutions that involve words like 'salsa' and 'swing'...it hasn't been a huge issue....still..

You know what could make it kind of obvious that you don't know how to dance? At all?

Having your dear friend marry a BALLET MASTER. Whose groomsmen are Dancers. Many guests : dancers. The idea of learning how to dance in public makes me nervous enough ( I think I'd need [lots of] classes first) , but in that crowd, I was hopelessly embarrassed. I kept sneaking away, looking for a shadow to hide in. At one point, I was actually carried forcefully onto the dance floor. These capable artists took it upon themselves to help me find my dance .. thing. They were gracious, fun, outgoing, patient..but despite their kind efforts, I remained thoroughly panic-stricken.

Later, the bride (a fierce performer in her own right) asked me what I do in an audition if they tell me to start dancing. I answered that, so far, they have always sent us away with an instructor, taught us combinations,then had us return to perform. In that situation, you get the chance to repeat the steps while watching real dancers, and when it's your turn you fake it like your pants are on fire.

This is the year, though. It may not be New Year's, but I am resolved. The next time I have a friend who marries a ballet instructor, I want to dance along with them. I'm not saying I'll be Michael Flatley. I think what I'm shooting for is..a sense of public solitude - a shedding of self-awareness(that way, if I suck I don't have to know!!)..

;)

.......................................

The wedding was completely unique - the couple clearly made for each other. Being a part of it was an honor that I'll never forget. You're beautiful together, guys. I can't wait to see the trail you blaze in this world. Love ya!
.......................................

Fare well, old friend..

When I moved here, one of the first purchases I made was an inflatable mattress. I think it was around thirty dollars, and time proved the money to be well spent.
Since September, this mattress has been slept on, sat on, jumped on, and stood on by all of us(though most of the jumping/standing was carried out by a pair of mischievous preschoolers)... even the family dog has occasionally been caught trying to grab a nap with my electric blanket.
The bed never complained - to the contrary, it provided a consistently comfortable, stable(though a bit creaky) haven at each day's end..

So here I am, watching this faithful air-filled nest of coziness rapidly deflate. I don't know what happened to cause the massive leak whose source I cannot find..
It would be pointless to get upset - this mattress has done it's job, earned it's keep, surpassed reasonable life expectancy.
So I watch it sinking toward the floor....hm. I think I'll sleep on it anyway. I'm sure I'll wake up with the bamboo rug two inches from my face, and I may or may not be required to find another bed tomorrow..
But for tonight, sleep is more important than comfort. I'll just pretend I'm camping again.
:)

I can smell the cedar already

We all have places that form us. Places that run in our blood even when we're not there, that call us back more often than we can answer.

I am going to sleep on my favorite forest floor.

I will remember a thousand things at a time.
... place my hands on the tree we used to jump over (that is now as tall as a house)
... eat wintergreen berries.
..... probably more than once, panic at the presence of a spider on my jeans.


I'll look for remnants of the faerie houses we built..


I am more unique, more resiliant, more imaginative, because of this place and the days spent there.

It's where I leaned the forest is safe. It's where I learned that your heart stretches to hold love and pain. It's where I learned that not everyone reacts to poison ivy.

We were Queens wearing perfumed cedar, picked from the tree and crushed between the wrists. We were Amazon Women.

solidarity.

Late last night one of my favorite people and I sat talking over coffee. We both had rough days and didn't need to say much to make ourselves understood.
"Sh*tty.", she said from across the table.
"Sh*tty.", I said from behind my coffee cup.
Once we had that established, laughter and easier conversation followed.

Today, by the way, is starting out much better. An email from another treasured person challenging me to refocus and keep going..a phone call from yet another person I love, wading through rich conversation about God and family..
I'm grateful for the people dear to me today, even as I look around and see almost all of them struggling.

Please pray for my Grandpa, who is in the hospital again, and for my Grandma, who is exhausted.
She deserves so much, and has such an unbelievable story.. that can't begin to fit in this post.

yearning

I want my life to leave an imprint of hope and love and imagining on mankind. I want the effect to be bigger than my life itself, and to last until the Maker comes back to make all the broken things right.

I want to leverage life's possibilites to make humanity better. I want my daughters to exceed me in every way.

The(partial) plan: To move to LA and get into a two year acting program. When that's done, to study more. And more. To become a vibrant part of the Mosaic community. To get a hole-in-the-wall apartment and a car that runs. To find a fantastic school for my girls. To make enough money doing what I love to be able to take care of my daughters and keep doing what I love. To develop real friendships and genuine love for the city.

The bigger plan: To go as deeply into this one craft as a human can. To learn to maximize the moments I have left on this planet.
To live with absolute fullness.

The problem: I know exactly what I want to do with my life and have no practical means to get there. I am going through a divorce. I have no moolah. Don't do well with cars - they keep breaking until there are no more to break. Car-less. Zero funds.
The bigger problem: It would be much, much, much easier to give up. But I refuse to.

Has anybody seen my flute?

So, Monday night I had an audition in GR. Which is very good news. I love auditions.
The problem? I was sick..so sick. I barely made it through the morning with the girls. I sat very still for long periods of time between their requests or quarrels. I had chills, a cough, a headache, a fever. I could actually *hear* my blood. Is that normal?
After dropping Willow off at school, usually Ginger & I have some serious fun via the beach, hike, or ice cream stop. Not Monday.
"Where are we going?", she asked from the backseat with a voice full of anticipation.
I think I muttered something about home, or just thought it as I stared resolutely at the road in front of me. See, the sound of the blood in my head was kind of distracting and I was totally focused on getting to a place where I would not have to move. At all.
Ginger didn't like this 'home' plan. At all.

I didn't have much time after Willow got home before I needed to leave for the audition. I hadn't worked in months. I wasn't about to call in sick. So, I took some medicine to help me through the rest of the day. Very important to be alert at auditions.
I should have looked more closely at the label..again, the blood-noise distraction..it was generic NyQuil. The blah-blah-blah so you can SLEEP medicine.
!
You don't know what NyQuil does to me.
My mom made me a pot of coffee..I drank a lot of coffee..
I went, and as always, did my best.
I'd never driven in downtown GR before. Didn't know how to find the building on campus that I needed..
I parked my car and checked my face before I got out. I wanted to see if I looked as trashed as I felt. I was pretty normal looking, except for the lack of pupils. Pretty much no pupils. Hm...oh, well.
I found the place, and got off to a great start by walking straight past the registration table and into the room where they were auditioning someone else. (By the way,that's a good way to make a first impression, if you ever want to try auditioning for something.)
As I introduced myself, I felt someone grab my arm and lead me out to the place where all the other actors were waiting.
I had about two minutes to look at a couple of scenes for two different characters before being called in. I re-introduced myself and proceeded with the audition. Did I mention how important the voice is to a performance? Did I mention that my voice sounded like a forty year old male smoker?
I walked out a few minutes later, still in a total fog, and laughed at myself. I don't give excuses in auditions. If I suck, I suck. I'm not going to waste their time and mine with a story explaining why.
It's a learning experience no matter what. I walked out of there understanding my circumstances, and knowing I did the best I could with them. I wish I could see the tape of my scene - probably so funny!
After you leave an audition, if you don't want to go insane, you just forget. You let it go. If you were awful, you take the lesson and move on quickly.
I did not expect to hear from them, but tonight, I did.
I won't be playing the role I tried out for(a burnt-out social worker in a halfway house)...
I've been offered instead the role of 'Party Performer'. I am told I will be needed for one day..wearing a renaissance gown..playing the flute at a child's birthday party.
Of course I took it. Not only do I not give excuses at auditions, I also do not turn down perfectly bizarre student film flute playing opportunities. I have until the beginning of June to find my inner flutist. I think I remember leaving her somewhere in the mid 90's..

Depleted

Lately, I haven't been a very consistent blogger, and even writing this first sentence has been difficult. It's not that I don't have anything to say - it's that I have too much. As someone who has always found it easy to communicate what's going on inside, sometimes to the point of over-sharing, this self - imposed censorship feels unnatural and constrictive.

This has been the hardest year of my life, and I don't want to drone or complain or bore you. I don't want to hear myself talk about the painful details - I'm tired of having such a small, inwardly focused perspective.
I feel like I am sitting in a field of injured people, unable to help them because I am still sitting here after nine months with my hand pressed over my own wound. I'm healing, but not fast enough.

So when it's time to write, I am torn. The gaps between my posts are filled with the stories I don't feel like I can tell here. I want to write with honesty or not write at all. I love going to people's blogs and reading their unique perspectives, especially when they have responded to incredible pain with grace. I feel refreshed, and challenged, and hope - infused. What I'm afraid of is that if I write with transparency here, people will not leave feeling those things. I don't want people to walk away from an interaction with me(in person or through reading here) feeling depleted or discouraged.

I also feel strange writing a heavy, personal post one day, and an optimistic one the next. Without all the subtext that happens between, reading can be a jerky experience: Wait a minute? Wasn't she just desperate yesterday? How did she end up dancing in the sand today?

But that's my current reality. It's not comfortable to live in, and it's probably not comfortable to look at. See? Isn't frankness awkward?
In September, my six year marriage ended horrifically.
In September, I got my first real role in a feature film and made enough money to get us through for a few months.

The savings account is empty. I'm broke.

Car-less(except for the next couple of weeks - thanks to Carma for letting Matt go to Germany)

My mom has allowed my children and I to live with her for the past 8 months. This has been both wonderful and difficult. Wonderful because she's here, and we have a great relationship..I love seeing her every day, and watching the girls develop such an intensely close bond with her.
Difficult because it's impossibly tight quarters. Small, small house.
Difficult because I appreciate her generosity but don't want to exploit it. I also don't want to take over her home with our presence - to change the things that make it her haven any more than is inevitable, and that gets harder the longer we're here. Our stuff and habits and schedules are becoming more dominant because of the smallness of the space and the fact that we outnumber her.

I haven't been able to afford filing the divorce papers yet, and once I do, it will take at least six months before it's final. That timeline is daunting - I wish it were just over.

I haven't had any auditions or work since March when filming wrapped on Zorg & Andy, and I can't describe the hunger to learn that I have or the frustration I experience when I'm unable to do what I love.

I have so much to be grateful for, and although I take much of it for granted, I am learning to experience gratitude deeply. It's a side effect of loss, I think: the good things, the irreplaceable things, become dearer to you.

I'm just depleted today.

My Chosen Vocation

I saw this quote today on a blog that I frequent, and can't say it better. This one is dedicated to the friends and family who think I'm crazy:

"Vocation at its deepest level is not, 'Oh, boy, do I want to go to this strange place where I have to learn a new way to live and where no one, including me, understands what I'm doing.'

Vocation at its deepest level is, 'This is something I can't not do, for reasons I'm unable to explain to anyone else and don't fully understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling.'"

--Parker Palmer


**side note: while this quote may not prove that I'm 'not crazy'...it does prove something: I'm not the only one.
Signed, lovingly,
The Little Actress Who Couldn't Quit But Could Sure Use a Miracle.
:)

Welcome, Maya Grace!!!!!!!!!

Willow's song, heard from the other room where she has created a school and is giving promotional tours to prospective students(Ginger):

"Everyone should sing loud at the same time..
except for baby Maya...
Maya just got born last night(five year old concept of time..or artistic license?),
So she is a good Pristite(when she's in a pinch, she just makes up a word that rhymes. The song must go on..),
She's so small,
She's so healthy,
She's so good,
Baby Maya's here...
:)
Baby Maya just came out.
She's nice and so helpful,
and she's kind and true.
And she is gooooood!"


*****photos from Maya's blog and Uncle David's

where will you lay your head April 29th?

If you've never heard of Invisible Children, please click on this link. If you don't know about the Global Night Commute, there is still time to get involved here. It is happening this Saturday, April 29th, in cities across the globe.
Probably in one close to you - whether or not you can make it to this demonstration, I urge you to become familiar with the longest running war in Africa and it's devastating effects on countless children. It needs the world's attention. I know that more often than I'd like to admit, I shut down when I hear stuff like this. I withdraw and look away, because the pain going on in this world is just so huge. There are far too many tragic conflicts, starving children, threats of disease and war. If I hear of one more heartbreaking situation, my heart might...break. It is so hard to pursue knowledge of such immense suffering.
But I don't want to live insulated by the comfort of ignorance. I keep screwing it up and retreating into my tiny corner of experience, but I am prying my hands off from my eyes again(and will have to many more times).
For the sake of these children, please join me in looking at this crisis. Really looking.

Thinking of Someplace

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.


William Butler Yeats

Re - do.

Almost three years ago, I put my newborn daughter in the car and took a crazy road-trip with my mom. I had heard on NPR that there was a feature film being made on Mackinac Island. My only acting experience was some theatre in high school, so I did the natural thing and decided to track down the details and try out for this film. I had no idea what I was doing. My dad recorded a demo for me(it was a musical) and I dragged my tired postpartum self to the upper peninsula with baby in tow for what I thought would be the craziest thing I'd ever do. I remember every moment of that audition..I had stepped into a foreign world - I (clumsily) read the selected scene with the director, thanked them and left. I knew that I hadn't done well. I knew that I would not get the part.
But I was elated.
I had done something that terrified me - I had made a fool of myself doing something risky and random and out of my comfort zone. And though I had not performed impressively, I knew I had tried wholeheartedly.
I can't remember all the auditions I've bombed since that afternoon three years ago, but every time I showed up to face my fears, I came out less afraid.
Next week, I may have the chance to sort of look in the mirror and gauge how far I've come(and how far I have to go!). The film, it turns out, has been delayed for all this time, and they need to recast several roles. Including the one I auditioned for. I'm taking another road trip with my mom(no baby this time)...I'm perplexed and grateful that I get a chance to read for the same part after all this time. So much life and grief and courage have passed through me since that day. It marked the beginning of an adventure that I plan to spend the rest of my life exploring..it will be interesting to come full circle and see how it feels to stand in that place again.

I know a little more about acting now..and have more confidence. But really I still have only two things going for me: I know I'll try wholeheartedly, and I know I'll come out less afraid.
Auditions are a beautiful opportunity to fail, and survive, and get brave.

A while back I visited a church that closely resembled one I attended as a kid. It brought back alot of memories.
While one of the leaders was giving announcements, a man on the stage began to scream in tongues at the top of his lungs. I had forgotten how.. startling.. that can be.
After the last scream echoed through the room, the man giving the announcement calmly finished.
I don't remember what he said, though. The Screaming-In-Tongues guy was chuckling sheepishly to the person next to him on the stage.
It struck me that his expression looked just like a kid who had passed gas loudly in public: slightly embarrassed by the noise but pleased with the attention.

I felt completely out of place there. Actually, that's how I've felt in every church I've been a part of.

As a follower of Christ, I am devoted to him. But over the years, I have grown increasingly afraid of the organized church.
One part of me says, " Jump back in. You can't learn to swim by staying out of the water."
The other part answers, "Are you crazy? That's where I almost drowned. I can still feel the water in my lungs. "


I'm not looking for a perfect community, and I recognize my own shortcomings. I want to be part of the solution to the problems in the body of Christ..I'm just being honest.

I don't miss much of what I experienced within the walls of churches. The posturing, power-struggles, gossip, abandonment, hypocrisy, hardness, expectations, manipulation.
There are things I do miss. And I look forward to a time when the memories of those good things and kind people will loom larger than the hurtful ones. I thought it felt wierd to be a pastor's wife; it was hard to find others who related to that experience. The end of my marriage seems to have now put me in an even smaller(and wierder feeling) category: women who used to be married to pastors who are now afraid to attend church but are trying to work through that fear. Life is crazy.

very small.

I walked to the lake today.
The sun was high in the sky, and so was the moon. I love it when that happens..
As I walked along the beach, a cold, persistent wind pushed me from behind. It was so strong and constant, I could actually lean back into it quite far without falling.
Through the whipping strands of my hair I watched the ground in front of me. The top layer of the beach was being lifted, carried, sifted...rushing along at the wind's insistence. I felt like one of those small grains of sand, and forgot that I was cold...it was just..movement.
Forward.
Just grateful to be a tiny grain of sand in all that beauty.

"I want you to get deep into the beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened.."
(Spoken by Claire. One of my favorite lines from 'Elizabethtown'. Probably slightly misquoted.)

....................................................................................................................................

It is a strange place I've been suspended in for the past while..
I turn my head from side to side occasionally, watching two women. One of them paces incessantly, counting and recounting...she is trapped in a small room with a very low ceiling. The distance between her responsibilities and her resources has exhausted her, but she finds very little rest. She feels old. The past year has been filled with pain she would have thought impossible before. She has no car, no income, no more savings, and a lot of sadness.
The other woman stands outside, with her face turned to the sky, laughing. She knows exactly where she wants to go, exactly what she was made to do. Amazing opportunities have been placed in front of her, one after another. She has been able to do things in the past year that would have seemed impossible before. She dances with her children, and feels healing spreading through their connected hearts. She progresses with confidence, and gratitude, and hope for their futures...but only so far before she turns back. She sees the woman trapped in the room, too.

And she can't move forward until she finds a way to get her out.

know your enemy

I have some vague memories of being younger and noticing the population of rust-colored ladybugs growing each year. After a while, it seemed like they were all over the place outside, and even showing up on walls and ceilings. I don't think it bothered my mother or me very much, since they were kind of cute.


It matters now.

The ladybugs have become an infestation over the past several years. My mother's small home began filling with them each spring, in ever increasing numbers. It turns out, they like hiding in medicine cabinets and spoon drawers. In addition, they stink when they fly into your lightbulbs, and don't seem to learn from the mistakes of their peers.

The infestation has reached a new level, because this time, they didn't leave over the winter. They set up camp and stayed, and now are multiplying at a rate that would make a rabbit blush. This is especially troublesome because I live in this house now, with two young daughters and my mother and her dog. Guys, space is tight. We *do not* have room for ten thousand ladybugs.

My children are afraid.

It turns out, the ladybugs bite. They stink when they die and they bite my little girls. They have now become my enemies...

I've learned some interesting things during the week since I declared war on the rust colored legion(let's call this list, "You Know You Have an Infestation When...."):

1. If you listen closely, you can hear their shells clicking as they jockey for the best position on the glass windowpane.
2. If you are almost asleep and feel something pellet-like on, say, your thigh..and it BITES you, it's probably a lady bug. In this situation, it's best to panic.
3. If you see a ladybug in your house and call other family members to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over it's cuteness before taking it gently outdoors to set it free, you probably don't have an infestation. If your frightened 2 yr old plays a skewed version of hopscotch just to get down the hall without encountering one, you probably *do* have an infestation.


Earlier this week, I discovered that they don't like the vacuum cleaner. I was happily on my way to freeing our home from their tyranny..
Then, they organized. I swear. Every day, I go through the house vacuuming hundreds of them from windows, corners, blankets, picture frames (to the applause and cheers of W and G). I take the full vacuum canister outdoors and empty it, then come in to our clean, inviting, de-bugged home.
The next morning, I wake to find MORE than the day before! So I start again..

Now, when they hear the vacuum turn on, they all try to run and hide. I don't think they are supposed to know how to do that.
And this is the weirdest thing so far: every day at around 3 pm, they go crazy trying to get out the North-facing window. Every stinking one of them clicking frantically against the picture window. I look on the other windows, nothing. I come to the North-facing window, it's ladybug chaos.
That's okay with me, though..it just makes it easier to surprise them with the vacuum, them being so distracted and all in one place.
For now, I'm one step ahead of them.
I just pray they don't evolve any further..if they go on the offensive, we're in trouble.




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The wierdest thing:

I have been doing household 'stuff'...since lunch the girls have been just playing (and cranky.)...it got too quiet so I walked into their room to ask what they were playing. One of them was tucked into her bed sound asleep, when I had just talked with her literally 2 minutes ago. She put herself down for a nap??!! This just does not happen.

Then I looked around for the other one, who just minutes before had mentioned being tired (I was going to lay them down in an hour or so..).

As I approached the bathroom, I heard something. I opened the door to find the other one sitting on the toilet with her head leaned against the wall snoring!! I was so shocked that I shut the door again and went back to look at the first one: still asleep. Then I headed back to get the other one from the toilet, but she woke up and ambled to bed on her own. I have never EVER had such an easy time putting them down for a nap.


What. On. Earth.

Will the real Colleen G. Corbin please step forward?

Last night, I forged my mother's signature approximately 145 times while she smiled her grateful approval from across the kitchen table. We took occasional breaks from scrawling to sip our special coffee(a bit of Bailey's Irish Cream...turns coffee into something much better) from clear glass mugs.
In keeping with the offbeat ease our relationship has always held, we continue to bond at the most unexpected, inexplicable moments.

**In case you're wondering about the backstory....she had to go out to make copies of a letter she had written which will be sent home to parents of her students. The middle school AND high school copier machines are broken, so she used her personal time to run the copies. It wasn't a big deal, shouldn't take too much time.
Unless you did something silly like forget to sign the original....meaning 290 letters must be signed by the librarian before sending them home the next day..
If something like that happened, you would be glad you had a willing forger and some Bailey's waiting at home..
I wonder if people will notice the dozens of signature styles(I'm not great at sticking with one thing..)?

Uniquely 'Willow'

After Willow tried a bite of the radish I was eating...

Me: Do you like it?
W: Yes...it's not too spicy. You don't mind 'too spicy'. But I do.
...pause...........
W: It's o.k. for us to be different. I mean, you can like spicy food and I don't and that's o.k.

Me: Yeah. Isn't that cool? If we were all exactly the same, it would be pretty boring.

W: It's better that we're all different. I'm glad we're not all the same and boring..

Me: (thinking to myself) ...I'm so proud of her for recognizing the importance of diversity and individuality at five yrs old. What a smart kid..

W: Mom, you know, if I was exactly like you, if I was 'another you'...it would be boring. If I was just like you, that would mean I'd clean up more.

Me:(slowly coming to the realization that my smart five year old is now conning me...) Well. That's interesting....it's good that you don't want to be exactly the same as me....how about this: I'll teach you how to clean up more, and then you can put your own flair on it; do it 'your way'...'kay?

Zorg & Andy

Filming wrapped this week on Zorg & Andy, and I'm on my way home. The past two weeks have felt like one long, continuous day punctuated by occasional naps. It was such a great experience - I am really going to miss the group of people I worked with. By the end of the filming process, we had so many inside jokes ( that won't make sense to anyone who wasn't there)!

I won't try to relay all the details, but I am so glad I went for multiple reasons - this project was different than any other I've done before.... here are a few of the memories I'll carry with me always(more later):

Stuffing the contents of five bags into one suitcase at the Amtrak station upon finding out that "we don't check luggage in Michigan"...thanks for convincing me not to bring the weights, Dad. ;)

.....................................The six legged lamb....learning the difference between an Alasaurus and a Smilodon.....making friends with the snakes....

Hearing the hissing of 200 cocroaches from the backseat of the van we were in....crawling back over the mounds of props and equipment to make sure they hadn't gotten loose.......making eye contact with the woman in the car behind us, who obviously thought I was weird for crawling around the back of a van at a stoplight...if she only knew how much wierder it really was, I thought as I adjusted the lid of the cocroach box and gingerly avoided jostling the fragile 6-legged lamb...

The Famous Recipe sign in Richmond, Indiana, that read:
"Try our liver and gizzards combo"

When the DP and I pointed the sign out to the producers, hoping they would find it as hilarious as we did...and they barely even looked...then said, "that's really common here. Like brain sandwiches."

Caffienne.........lots of it, as often as possible........

So much laughter..........friendships starting, a diverse range of personalities(the movie about the making of Zorg & Andy would probably be even funnier than the film itself!)

Missing my girls......doing o.k. most of the time, then crying at random moments....sympathetic hugs..

The joy of travelling alone - the feeling of independance and exploration..

The last shot finished, the cast party at the brewpub, Caroline at Steak'n'Shake who gave me a bowlful of cherries just to be nice.....

I'm happy to be home, and can't wait to do it again.















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Silence

This blog will be silent for a couple of days, probably a couple of weeks. I'm going to be out of town working on a project, and today I'm flying around trying to make sure I have everything I'll need for the trip.
The bad news:
I'll undoubtedly forget something important
The good news:
It's supposed to be in the 50's this week in Indiana:)
More good news:
I get to have lunch in Chicago with one of my favorite people during my train's layover.

Hope spring arrives in Michigan while I'm gone..there's something I love about leaving at the end of one season and returning when the beauty of the new one is just beginning to show.


I want to smell the earth after a long spring rain, and sit at the edge of the dock with bare feet grazing the water. I want to go for walks without scarves, hoods, gloves, boots, and extra layers weighing me down..

:) Be back soon.

Willow just shouted from the other room:

2 + 1 is 3!
And 5+5 is actually 10!!
And 2+2 is....4!

I asked her when she started learning math.
She said,"Today".
I asked her how she was learning, and she replied that her toy is teaching her.
Her toy is speaking spanish.

My five year old daughter is *learning math* from a spanish-speaking toy.

As I recall, I didn't even do very well learning math from highly skilled math teachers in high school.

Who spoke english.

Maybe I should try playing with the magic toy.

Today was just beautiful.
I went for a walk through GH along the channel to the pier, which was coated in glowing ice; then along the beach where I explored the different textures of sand and all the serpentine patterns formed where the winter wind had shifted rocks, glass, and shells around.
It was sunny, and still, and cold. I sat on a half-buried log looking at the ice formations lining the shore for a long time...the sunshine streamed across the sand with brilliance, and I turned my face toward it's blinding brightness with my eyes closed, and felt some things that I can't articulate here....there was some letting go, and some holding on, and in the quiet fight inside me, there was a reassurance that the stuff that hurts the most is going to heal.
I kept walking, because I could.

I just realized that I haven't written in days - this has been a busy week. I have been immersed in the script for the film I'm doing in March, and trying to make preparations for the girls while I'm gone. This site will probably be silent for much of the time between March 4th and 16th, since I'll be staying in Indiana with limited Internet access...but I'll be back with a lot to say!

I feel so happy about getting the chance to work again, doing what I love. It's been a couple of months, and getting this film was a gift. Acting is good for me because it's scary(beforehand during the preparation more than during the actual performance), and challenges the areas of my insecurities and inhibitions..it feels good to practice being scared of something and still seeing it through to completion. I am so inexperienced, I'm bound to make a fool of myself sometimes...but that's o.k. with me.

I'll just never quit. Acting, telling stories, living out empathy, is the thing I will never quit. I know I'm not that great at it yet, and I'm not choosing an easy road, but I know it's right. It's what I will do. And I have everything inside of me that every great actor has ever had. I'll spend the rest of my life learning to use it. Besides following Christ and being a mother, nothing stirs greater passion in me.

What's the thing you'll never quit?

:) miracles..however small..I'll take 'em:

Today I got a phone call from an agency in GR, wanting to interview me for their talent pool..

Today I got a call from one of the 437 places I've applied recently, and I will be interviewing there on Sunday afternoon..

big ones are good, too:

Tonight I am alive. You are, too. Which means we still have time to face our mistakes, learn from people who are not like us, and get current with the people we love and the One who lets us be here. It means we're still becoming.

I know this, and I am grateful for the generosity of God, which transcends our circumstances...but I am finite, and can't seem to turn off the confusion and fear, the over-analyzing and posturing and exhaustion..

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The freakishly stressful run-on sentence in my head, set to 'repeat':

I need a car in order to get a job to get money to pay for the car to get a job so I can get money to pay for a place to live near my job that I don't have but need so I can save money and feed my kids and meet their needs and gain some measure of independence so I can see more clearly what I want and need and must choose for myself and my children who need security which requires staying in school which requires a car which I need in order to...........

tired yet?
me too.

I need several miracles quickly.
The past six months have tired me out, and I don't know where to place my foot when I try to take a step.
Being a single mother is scary.


God, help.

One of the scariest moments of my life so far..................When she was three, Willow started talking about what she wanted to be when she grows up. Like every child, she has a potpourri of ideas, including the standards: ballerina, princess, bus driver, mom, business mogul, etc.. but the thing she has consistently repeated for the past two years is the one that makes me get sweaty palms.
Pilot. She wants to fly..not helicopters; airplanes. I don't remember where she first got the idea..but it has evolved into a plan that, if she puts her mind to it someday, could fill a niche in the airline industry that is completely overlooked presently. Seriously - she could pay for our retirements if she could make it work..yours and mine..the idea is so good that I won't tell it here..
I really *really* would rather she chose a profession that is less terrifying. But the thing is, I believe she can do anything. She can do *anything*. As a mom, I want her to live a long, safe, SAFE life...but more than that, I want her to live in the center of what she was created to do. And since I can't know what that is..I will let her find it, and risk for it, and live it. Actually, if I knew what she is destined to do, I might gladly prefer that she would stick to flying airplanes! The thing that captures her heart might be far more dangerous..... maybe she's headed for life as a police officer, or human's rights worker, or shark dentist.
The point is, I want her to have the chance to explore anything that she's interested in. If she goes through a phase when she wants to be an astronaut, I'll get her a telescope and take her to the planetarium......if she says she wants to be a pilot, I'll take her to the AirZoo.
Or, she'll end up in preschool with a friend named Emily whose mom is a pilot. And Emily's mom will find out that Willow likes planes, and she'll offer to take Willow and Emily for an after-school ride...
And I'll have to decide if I really *believe* all this "let them explore and experience" crap, if I will really let her do something that I would be (shhhhhh) scared to do myself.
And as I smiled at the generous and fascinating Pilot Mom, nodding my head when she asked if three o' clock would be o.k., I actually said out loud in my head:
Oh, shit.
...........................................
I knew I needed to let her go. I knew that Emily's Mom and Grandpa(a family of pilots) were highly skilled and experienced, and they would take care of her. But as I stood with my feet on the ground and watched the plane hop and buck the way small aircraft do...when I saw my daughter and her little friend bundled up snugly in the back seat of the plane, small blonde heads with lopsided earphones and smiles.....I could hardly stop myself from attacking that plane; hurling myself onto the wing and digging my heels into the pavement till they sparked as it pulled away.
I waved instead, and smiled, and once she was too far away to see, cried a little. I watched it lift off the ground gracefully and circle away from me into the hazy sky...and it really felt like some string was pulling from the center of me toward that dot in the sky..and it became very important to see that dot for as long as possible.
I sat there thinking " What kind of parent does this? What kind of crazy person lets their child go for a ride in the SKY inside a piece of metal with a whirlybird on the front! What if they crash - what if this is one of those Moments Before a Tragedy? What if she doesn't like it, what if she wants to come back down?
I sat in the car with Ginger, who peacefully dozed in the backseat, oblivious to my panic. I tried to listen to the radio. I noticed the dust on the dashboard and looked for something to clean it off, finally resorting to a wet wipe(Works, by the way). With the wet wipe I began detailing every part of my car within arm's reach of where I was sitting. I turned the radio off. I got out of the car...got back in. I finally shut my brain off altogether and stared blankly out the window. After an eternity, somewhere around twenty minutes, the plane pulled up and I got my hands on my child. I tried not to squeeze her too hard. She was so happy, and I was so proud of her..
I'll post pictures soon....

I still haven't found what I'm looking for......

I have always hated church-shopping...visiting different places looking for somewhere that fits whatever criteria you're looking for..usually style of music, dress, service times, whether you get 'fed'...

I'm just looking for a place where I can breathe. I don't care about what they can offer me, or how long the service is, or what style of ministry..denominations don't matter to me, and really - I'm not even that concerned with the articles of faith right now. No matter where I go right now, my mind is alert to falsehood from up front..I'm not likely to blindly embrace anything. The only criteria I have are hard to articulate. I know there needs to be unconditional acceptance of all types of people. I know I need to be surrounded by visual beauty..I would be thrilled to find someplace that felt like being at Lake Michigan; sunlight streaming through windows, shadows bouncing off walls open my senses for worship and contemplation. And the hardest thing to explain is..the way a place feels when I am there:

Can I breathe?

I'm sure that sometime, soon maybe, the things I'm looking for on Sunday morning will change. As I change. But at present, this is what I am trying to find. Most of the time, when the weather's nice, I've just been alone outside, near water. When the weather's adverse, I've visited different churches each week, usually four or five in a morning, usually not getting past the parking lot or foyer before feeling too..squeezed.


Someone is playing 'fur elise' on the coffee shop's piano, and it took minutes for me to become aware of it..when we were young, that piece filled our house at all hours, spilling from the determined fingertips of my sister..the notes are woven into me like a tapestry as a result..so when I hear it somewhere, I often don't notice at first. It just evokes a feeling of peace and remembrance, followed by a fond thought of my sister, followed by the realization that the song is being played.

What music does that to you?

Still here

I haven't fallen off the planet, but I have been very busy trying to make enough money to make sure my kids and I survive on it.
So far, the elusive survival job continues to evade me...and the LA relocation account is almost dry....Interviewers don't like resumes from women who chose to stay home with their children while they were babies, and made all their meager money acting for the past 2 yrs, and now are single mothers looking for a way to support those beautiful daughters..they see "stay - at - home mom" and think, "weak." They see "actress", and think "flake".
Those stereotypes do not represent who I am, or the way I live. But so far, they are stopping me from getting in the door Anywhere.
Some things have been really encouraging, though: I am talking with people right now about a possible film project in March that would be a great opportunity, and I got to attend a workshop yesterday that may have helped me get another role for a short shooting later this summer..
So, one foot in front of the other...it's just been a long winter.

Please pray for my Aunt Jen's best friend, Tami. In the past week, she lost her Grandma(which the family was trying to prepare for and sort of expected), and then her youngest brother (tragic, unexplained, unexpected). Her family is just reeling..Tami's brother leaves behind a wife and ten year old daughter..Tami's mother, within the space of 24 hours, lost her mom and her baby. There are just no words that will lessen what they're all going through..please join me in talking to God about this.

Do you know what I mean?

I saw End of the Spear the other night. Some things about the film really bothered me - but the flaws and the reasons they were so frustrating lay in the storytellying..not the story. I was still deeply moved, maybe because I knew the story before, and my mind and heart filled in some of what the film seemed to miss. What I was drawn to, though, was hard to articulate - it was like a beckoning finger from beneath a layered shroud, or a swirl of fragrant smoke leading down an alley. Was it there or wasn't it?
The scope of forgiveness and *honest* transformation demonstrated through the real-life people involved strikes a chord in me; the parts of the gospel that I urgently *want* to be true. So much of what I thought I Knew and Believed and Belonged-To has been jostled, tipped, half the damn thing's spilled...I have a squinty-eyed, who-are -you-*really*, bar-the-doors, I'd like to stuff your small-minded bumper sticker up your , kind of thing going on in my head..
So while I was watching this movie, I was conflicted: I don't know exactly how I feel about American Christians strategically targeting 'unreached people groups' with missionary teams..but then again, it was the 50's..
I cried for a long time, during the movie, all the way home, while I prepared for bed..
because it doesn't really matter to me if it's not a great film; I just really need the story to be true. I need to live on this planet for a reason. Forgiveness needs to be possible although rarely deserved. Transformation of individuals and cultures needs to be honest and complete, and hearts full of violence need to spill peace. I just haven't seen this up close lately. I've been so disillusioned by false morality, but I can't let go of hope that the Story can be true.

ahhhh..

I need to go for long walks in order to be happy. If I am really taking care of myself, I find a way to do it every day - a few miles of fresh air, and I get a rush of endorphins..everything looks brighter, smells more pungent, my body feels completely engaged, blood flowing and muscles working..my favorite spots are along the shores of Lake Michigan.
When life gets hectic, I forget how much I need to be near the lake every day..it's been since summer this time. It seems to take so long to remember what those walks mean to me and what they do for my emotions..
Christmas day I went for a walk with my parents, uncle, and sister. Not a long walk, but one that took us down the steep stairs at the state park, to the water's edge..I started to remember then.
New Year's day my sister & I went for a serious walk with my aunt&uncle, cousins, and a friend..one that led us in and out of the forest, up and down dunes, along the water, back through the forest..I felt like I wanted to jump with every step - like there were springs in my boots..I remembered. My sister looked at the sky and said, "I need to do something like this every day.." I know exactly what she means. It was the best kind of exhaustion.
Yesterday, the sky was cloudy and spitting cold rain. I bundled up and set out alone for the highlight of my weekend.. I parked in downtown Grand Haven and cut over along the channel, all the way to the end of the pier. The only walkers I met along the way were the ones who, like me, *need to*, and we traded happy smiles, strolling through the wind and rain with quiet enjoyment. When I got to the pier, I sat for awhile watching a surfer in the icy waters. I wondered if his winter surfing was giving him what my blustery walk was giving me.. I can't do this every day right now, but once a week is a start.
Where do you go when you need to feel most like yourself? What activity feeds every part of you - when you're *really* taking care of yourself, what's your favorite daily thing?
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just because it's cute, here's the directions from the back of the teabag my mom just brewed:
Korea Red Insam Tea ~
Direction:
Dissolve contents in this bag in a cup of cold water. It would be better taste when adding honey or other sweetenings.

January fourth, 2001..
I thought I loved things before she came..I remember the first moment I saw her, as she was being born..she turned her head and looked straight into my eyes, and I was stricken with something that can't ever be reversed or diminished..by nature or struggle or death or time..and for five years I've watched her changing, becoming..
I want her to surpass me in every way..in some ways she already does..
Her eyes have always pulled me in; their strange hue of gray-green is slowly transforming as she grows..they're beautiful and arresting, openly questioning..but I think the reason they're the part of her I see most clearly in my mind is that first moment..in a room full of people, when she looked at me. I've just never been the same.
I let her choose anything in the world that she wanted for her Birthday Breakfast this morning. She thought for a second, before deciding "cereal first, then cake."
Willow, being your mom is one of my favorite things about being alive..