My loves, my loves.
Just 3 hours with these beauties and my soul is healed and refreshed, softer and lighter. "Salty Dog" cocktails don't hurt, either. But mostly it's my loves. Thank you for your continued support and encouragement; for making me laugh and reminding me that female friendships are at the center of it all for my best life possible. In Gratitude, Trish
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I often post photos for this series that don't include lil ol' me, typically because I'm the person behind the lens (phone?) attempting to document. But I admit I've also been generally avoiding having my pic taken these days since I don't usually love the way I look in photos. It's to the point, in fact, where B feels defeated as soon as I ask him to because "you're just gonna hate it, anyway!". Which is silly, really. Silly and a tad superficial. That being said, this week I chose my self portrait up top as the official memory of the week -- a little self love is needed, perhaps, so we'll start with owning that this is a pretty image. (Ya hear that, ego?!) Thanks, B, for snapping it during our Fleet Week yacht adventure, and being hopeful that I would approve :) And because it was such an enjoyable day on the bay: A boating themed Thelma/Louise photo bomb... And a typical interaction between the manslice and myself...(how about that fierce beard + pink shorts combo he's rocking?!).... In Gratitude, Trish Who needs to see our smiling faces, when you've got such a glorious ocean & bridge view to focus on? (This is my attempt at a positive spin on the disappointment of a. this being a photo fail and b. this being the only darn pic taken last week, thus forcing me to post a photo fail.)
Oops. Speaking of disappointment.... Things are not bad. Life is quite good, really. But I've found myself faced with a few road blocks, or hiccups, or scenarios simply not playing out how I'd hoped. Things don't feel as light as I'd like them to be, despite my best efforts to be more in the flow. Professionally, personally, physically -- disappointed is the best way to describe it. Because of this, my most repeated sentiment has been: "I just need a win." Whenever I can't explain feeling like OK, yes, things are fine. Things are enough, and that is great for so many reasons. But things so clearly...in my mind and heart...have the potential to be bigger, better, healthier, more fulfilling. Things feel smaller than they're meant to be. -- when I know in my gut there is more to be had, in a way that feels right to me -- That's when just needing a win weighs heavily. In a session last night, my therapist and I talked extensively about this. What would a win look like in each area of my life? What am I doing to foster a winning environment, and what am I avoiding? At one point, after many rounds of introspection, I finally told T that I'm tired of everything in my life out West (and some aspects just in general) requiring so much effort. It feels as though nothing is coming easily (besides my relationship with B, thank goodness) despite my consistent attempts to make it work, and I'm exhausted from feeling like I need to be in control in order to make shit happen, and then still am not getting anywhere. Or perhaps more accurately, anywhere I truly want to be. This city is amazing, but gosh almighty just getting across town requires so much damn effort. When can I sit in the back seat?, I moaned. When can I daydream, eyes on the scenery, relaxed in the back, trusting, just enjoying the ride? Why am I always the one having to take the wheel to prove myself worthy, or to keep the peace or to stay in touch or get the opportunity? Why won't someone else out here take a turn, bet on me, and help make shit happen? And then she nailed me. "Maybe you won't get out of the driver's seat." My old boss once gave me an odd compliment during one of my mini "I just need a win" work meltdowns, that I still think about from time to time. He said, "It can suck to be good at your job -- everyone just assumes you've got it handled, even when you might be needing more support." I think this sentiment applies to all areas of life -- we can be really good friends, lovers, co-workers, daughters, etc...and people may assume we've not only got it all under control, easily, but we enjoy being the one steering. Here is a radical notion: Maybe I need to give up control for a hot minute. Because that's really what it comes down to -- desperately craving to be in control, simply because I'm afraid of what will happen if I'm not. And by denying the chance for others to occasionally take the lead -- by not asking for whatever it is I want -- I'm not putting myself in a position to relax, flow, or grow. I'm only playing it small, and keeping possible "wins" at a distance. Maybe I need to plop myself in the back seat and say hey, here's where I want to go -- at work, in my friendships, with my love, with family, adventure, hobbies, -- and then tell some of my life travel mates that I'm needing...trusting...them to help me make it happen. Maybe I need to worry less about how smooth the drive is or how I look in the mirror or if my passengers may or may not be having fun and seriously ohmygoshpleasebehavingfun/doyoustill likeme?! In coaching, we often ask a client "How can you make this be easy?". I think the answer for myself right now is to most importantly tell folks what I want. ASK them for what I want, regardless of how nervous it makes me. Instead of fearing disappointment, try to be more present for the ride. And then take a back seat. Windows down, snacks by my side, bare feet, eye spy, care-free back seat living. At least for a few laps :) In Gratitude, Trish This is a pretty important "portrait" of this year: My official graduation from coaching training's core curriculum! 104 hours later -- 104 hours of emotionally expanding, strengthening, testing (and often wholly uncomfortable) experiential learning later -- I am so glad to have taken this step. I am also so glad to have finished, if I'm honest. I've never been one to shy away from vulnerable situations or conversations, but there was something about taking turns playing coach/client/coach/client/coach/client/rinse and repeat with my classmates for 104 hours that was...how do I put this nicely....super f*cking exhausting. So grateful for it. But super f*cking relieved for a break, and not afraid to announce it. Phew. I have absolutely no official next steps to take as of this moment, but I am trying to enjoy the process and marinate a bit on all of the important work I've completed before making any moves. Less doing, more being, if you will. That's what my heart is calling for, and I'm in no rush to jump into another chapter before really considering what it is that I want. Here is how I celebrated my graduation: Just me, a paddle board, and mama nature at her finest. Not too shabby, eh?
Excited for what's on the horizon (even though I don't have damn clue what it is, yet...) In Gratitude, Trish B often has a jam packed schedule, even on the weekends. With work, school, study groups, tutoring and all of the additional this, that, the other thing life throws our way on the daily -- I sometimes fly solo.
B is my most favorite person to spend time with, so it often stinks to eat alone or have to decline enticing social invitations, or spend an afternoon wishing he could just be enjoying our city with me. But this time apart also has its benefits -- and I think it's appropriate to express a bit of gratitude for this gift here, instead of just focusing on the general negative. Last Sunday, while the manslice was rushing here, there, everywhere, I had the sporadic idea to end my early morning errands (and rare occasion of having the car to myself) with a stop at Plow -- a gem of a brunch spot located exactly on the other side of town. I was giddy at coming up with this plan, and could feel a pep in my step the moment I walked out the front door to seize the brunch hour by the lemon ricotta pancake horns (the token dish of Plow, pictured above). Pulling up to the restaurant, my heart sank. It was only 9:30am, and already the line/groups of folks waiting to get in was spilling out onto the street. Damn it!, I mumbled while parking, feeling my spirits deflate faster than a kids post-birthday balloon. This blows. But, a deep breath later, I decided to half skip up the hill with less worry and disappointment, and more contentment in the knowledge that it was a clear, sunny morning, and I had absolutely no where to rush off to. I had all the time this Sunday could offer, and no matter how long it took, I was getting those damn pancakes. Freedom, baby. Apparently, a party of one is the best case scenario at Plow. I was instantly seated at the counter ahead of the larger parties, and once again that giddy joy at my mini me-date took hold. I looked around the bright space, taking in the heaping bowls of green avocados, and eggs perfectly perched in their open crates behind the glass. I watched as the team of skilled cooks crafted made-to-order sausage patties by hand, right next to the rows of mason jars filled with colorful spices, all lined up like a country-hipster salute to flavor. The chefs were a cheerful, smiling group of young Hispanic men, moving and singing to the music. And oh, the music. 90's hip-hop into Beyonce, Lauryn Hill into Michael Jackson. I was in playlist heaven. My sweet waitress also went out of her way to compliment my bracelets (a mix of Alex and Ani, and a hand stamped birthday present purchased by B and made by my favorite lady, Tristan). By the time my food arrived, I think I was actually buzzing. And with a full belly, suddenly the idea of coming home to an empty apartment didn't seem so depressing. It seemed like the perfect excuse to rest, read, and guilt free whip out all of my old secret single/weirdo behaviors (we'll get into that another day). And when B finally did get home, I could enjoy his company more deeply from a self-nourished, refreshed, contented place. I could love up on that boy and help him unwind from his day...with a little help from the to-go pancakes, sausage and biscuits, of course. See? Benefits. love and light, Trish JOMO (JOY of Missing Out, for all my fellow oldies who need help...like me...staying hip with the kids and their ever changing lingo) is the new FOMO, and thank gosh for it. Shifting my perspective from lack to abundance in terms of a fulfilling, satisfying social life has made a huge difference in my daily mindset. Wanna know the question that's been most helpful in this positive shift? It's pretty ground breaking, so brace yourselves... Hey Trish....What do you want? I know, I know. Who would have thought such a simple question, when answered truly and with vulnerability, could yield contentment and happiness in whatever way feels right from moment to moment? This view from last week is one of my absolute favorites: Clean white sheets, fresh book to spark my creative mojo, and a cutie patootie finally giving himself a break from homework on our new, cozy couch (fan blowing inches away, as cutie patootie hates to be hot). I picked this particular page of Creative Confidence to snap because of the chapter's strong and relatable message.... "The surprising, compelling mathematics of innovation: If you want more success, you have to be prepared to shrug off more failure." - Creative Confidence Trial and error, in all areas of life -- This is deep rooted, innovation yielding, learning at it's best, don't ya think?
It's amazing to consider how much the fear of failure has held me back, in a plethora of ways; cautiously, tentatively, waiting for the "perfect time" or the strongest go-ahead sign from above on a number of occasions. Waiting...and waiting...and oh is this it?!..no no, oh gosh, not yet...waiting.... I don't even know what the hell I'm waiting for anymore, which is pretty strong proof that holding out for the non-existent guarantee of first-time/"it's perfect!" success has boxed out my creative potential. For example, did you know my sister and I have discussed the possibility of co-writing a children's book for years? Or that I have wanted to submit my essays to actual paying publications since I started this blog? Or that I also want to make a demo of my many voices and impersonations, that folks always seem to love so much, and send it to Pixar...which is located right across the bridge? And that I'm so nervous about pursuing more coaching clients that it's limited me big time, stalling a desire of the heart I've held since before I can remember? Yea. Shrugging it off has never been my strong suit, unless it's on the dance floor, in which case my shoulders have moves for days. But success demands it. Over and over, in fact. And if I were coaching myself, this would be the area of focus right now -- turning failure into a forgivable, necessary step to success. Basically, What do you want? takes on a whole new life. What would bring me great joy to complete? How do I want to remember my life at the ripe old age 90? Creative confidence. Boom. Here I come.... In Gratitude, Trish Sunshine, working out, 6 loads of laundry, reading, studying, cooking, forcing B to hold my hand. That about sums up our Labor Day weekend. I'll blame it on the clubs being too long (my 5'5" frame vs. B's 6'3"), but boy I really stunk at the driving range. Short of 3 or 4 pretty solid whacks (thanks for the encouragement, B! You know I love to be praised), most of my swings ended up slicing way (wayyy) right. Sorry, all wildlife living in and under the big pine tree I nailed 15 times. Anyway, I'm actually feeling motivated to try again soon and potentially take a few lessons at the local city course. I like the idea of this hobby being something B and I can share late into our Golden years, along with our Pops who are both avid golfers. Hey, guys. I know I've continued to be pretty sporadic with my blogging, but I promise I think of you often. Sometimes, I just need a giant break from all things technology related and by sometimes I mean a lot of times. Less screen time = more face to face time, you know? And boy do I love me some face to face time. My time at Weebly is spent so deep in a number of work projects (because, like, that's what I get paid for I guess, or so they tell me) that when I get home, spending the remaining hours of my day with B in our cozy abode -- Pandora on, dinner cooking, chit chat and giggles galore -- is the only thing that helps me decompress. I can't believe I'm about to say this, since I've avoided being "that girl" for so, so very long...and because I've given many of my gal pals a hard time for being "that girl" over the years via some version of I DON'T NEED NO MAN, INDEPENDENT WOMAN 4EVA...but my hunky manslice roommate has honestly become my best friend. It's not so much that I need him, per say. But that I deeply wish to actively choose him, want him, prefer him. Barf, gag. Stop it, self. So, I hope you know how much I love The Grateful Life, even when I'm not so active. And, if there's ever anything you wish I'd write about ... questions, topics, stories... please never hesitate to let me know! In fact, I'd super appreciate it, since that'd help me stop making googly eyes at B every night and get my head back in the blogging game. love and light, Trish Music, beers, friends, fresh (albeit slightly foggy) park air. A heavenly and totally exhausting (because I'm old, and can barely "hang" anymore without needing full day to recover in bed) weekend was had in our beloved city's Golden Gate Park.
Tom Petty was by far our favorite performance of Outside Lands weekend -- that ol hippie has still got it in spades, and we loved hearing all of his classics, live. We always feel so fortunate to be able to VIP participate in these kinds of festivals. Thanks to a generous friend, we avoid the "jungle" of General Admission, which this grandma would absolutely not survive...too many crop tops and not enough jackets being worn! Aren't those skinny biddies freezing?! So we soak up every moment of gloriously strung together sounds from some of our favorite artists, from a slightly less claustrophobic, roped off area. Phew, amen, all is well. And because I adore all things awkward, this photo makes me laugh, and should thus be shared as a bonus portrait of our life. Special guest: our friend Natalie :) OK, once again this is not a photo from last week, it's not even a photo at all, but I'm going somewhere with it (I think), so just bare with me, and enjoy a random giggle... I love everything about this video. "It's so good", at the end, is probably my favorite part. Because this silliness, shared with my beloved cousin and friend at my 30th birthday party, is so good. I've been forgetting this kind of good, lately. I've been working some things out in this here noggin of mine (never a good idea, amirite?) and I've been forgetting that I don't always have to have it all figured it out. I've been forgetting that worry is worthless -- like a prayer for what you don't want -- and I've invested too much time figuratively on my knees praying for just about everything I don't want. But enjoying the company of ladies like Meg (which I did this weekend so HA, it basically is an appropriate "portrait of our life" entry), and being texted head banging dance videos by her boyfriend out of the blue, and having dinner with 2 other couples making me feel like a total, hip, city grown up, help me to remember, again. Maybe that's really all life is: The endless cycle of getting caught up in the bullshit, while being led by fear and shame or guilt and pride, forgetting the great joys of being alive, the joys we've already experienced and innately know how to find again, only to then, finally, blessedly, remember. Remember who we are and what we are worthy of; remembering and feeling whole and happy and deeply grateful again. It only takes remembering, and anyone can do that. We remember the bad so easily -- the less than pleasant, the cringe worthy, and the not-so-proud of. Remembering can be painful, I know. We're the only creatures on earth who punish ourselves over and over for the same mistakes or cling to how we've been hurt as an awkward, clunky, badge of dis-honor. But this is how you find the good, too. In remembering. So I guess we have to keep surrounding ourselves with silly cousins and keep performing hair thrashing dances for no one else's enjoyment but our own. And eventually, in the midst of our forgetting, someone will help you remember by sending you video proof that you know exactly what uninhibited, playful, joy looks like. That it's simple, a little ridiculous, and very much about not giving a flying f*ck what someone else might think of you while you do it. And that, most importantly, you should do it more often. love and light, Trish What's that old saying?
The couple who IKEA's together...almost doesn't stay together? Or something similar. Nine months ago I sold my horrible IKEA couch after 3 years of barely using it and despising it every day. It was a huge relief to be rid of that stiff, unwelcoming, eyesore and I was so thankful that B took it on as his first job in SF: get rid of it via good ol' Craig's List. It was there when I left for work in the morning, and gone when I came home. I will never shop IKEA again!, I vowed. For nine months we then hemmed and hawed over what we wanted to replace it. Because of our teeny tiny space issues (read: we have no space), it was almost nicer not having a couch at all while we worked to settle into shared home-hood together. Then he got a bike for his commute, and the space got even smaller. Then everyone we love on the east coast decided it was the best year to get married and/or have babies, so our bank accounts got even smaller. In short, we've been couch-less for awhile, and it's only recently started to get to us. The straw that broke the Diggy/Fell backs in finally pushing us to whip out our credit cards, though, was our creaky and slightly starting-to-sag bed. Both of our lower backs had been sore off and on for a bit, and we noticed that any bit of movement was waking us both up several times a night. Lord knows, if mama doesn't get a good sleep, there will be a price to pay. I realized at 30, it was time to firm up. Goodbye, soft pillow top, hello, latex lumbar support. We've waited long enough -- it was time to commit to new furniture. So, we looked online for a few weeks. And we visited a few shops in our area. But since we were already going to be outside of the city, we decided to just look at a few IKEA pieces. Kill two birds with one stone, we thought, we'll simply look for ideas...and really, maybe it was just my one fluke horrid couch, how bad could it be... About 10 minutes into maneuvering the IKEA maze like a couple of suburban lab rats, the only question replaying through both of our minds was What fresh Hell is this?... To summarize the outcome of this trip: Tired, hungry, with growing impatience and regret for leaving the shining 80 degree sunshine to enter into fluorescents-ville, we ended up buying a new bed, new frame, and new couch for the sake of satisfying the overwhelming desire to just be freaking done with it already. Which, I think, is their plan all along -- weaken the people, make them vulnerable, then lure them with do-it-yourself discounts and the hope of $1 ice cream cones at checkout. The home delivery line alone was so bad, I barely had to convince health-conscious B that after already eating 2 slices of cake at a birthday party prior to our IKEA trek, this $1 ice cream cone was a really good idea. Overall, I think we worked pretty well together through the nonsense and hiccups that is IKEA. A few moments of tension mixed with a lot of shared laughs and hatred of their instruction manuals is not too shabby, all things considered. I know B must really love me, because his response to my inquiring how I could be of assistance during his apartment scrub down/re-arrange was "go eat, or you'll just get so hungry, you'll be hangry". Like a good little listener, I went out and bought a breakfast burrito. It was definitely the most helpful thing I could do, and I particularly enjoy being helpful when avocado is involved. Unfortunately, poor B had to return to IKEA today to pick up a missing and crucial piece of our bed frame. Oh yes, said customer phone support, you have to buy that separately. But wait: No one in the store thought to mention this to us in all 3 hours we were there. But we'd already driven home in traffic. But we'd patiently waited for our delivery the next morning, and then needed to make cocktails to stay calm during the assembly. Sorry for ya, was the reply, you'll have to go to the store to get it... This was such an infuriating and ridiculous piece of knowledge to gain during the final step of our 1.5 hour long building process that...as my girl Annie says...I began to think things so horrible it'd make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish. B feels the same way, Jesus/cat dish bad words and all. So even though we are thankful to just be freaking done with it (it = new apartment furniture, done = pending final build this evening), we are also so, so very done with IKEA. This time I really mean it*. (*can someone remind me of this the next time I think it's reasonable to just go and "browse"? ...) In Gratitude, Trish I dropped the ball on last week's Portrait of our Life, both in posting and in actually documenting. But you're in luck...because I did happen to stumble upon the above photo on my old computer :)
Halloween, circa 1994. Little ol' hobo/vagabond Trish. Classic! As goofy as ever, and still with that wild, travelin' soul (only slightly less filthy and without an actual 5 o'clock shadow)... love and light, Trish Babies!!!
A trip back home for another beautiful wedding also allowed for prime baby holding time for me last week. These little nuggets stole my heart and choked me up from the instant they were placed in my anxious arms. I couldn't believe how much I was drawn to them both, and just kept telling their respective mamas (one my cousin and one a BFF) that it was "so weird" to be holding the offspring of two women I've known fo-eva. Thankfully, they agreed. It was joyful, grateful, awe-filled weirdness all around. Just how I like it! The truth is, if you'd asked me a few years ago about whether or not I wanted to have children, the answer would have been a whole hearted NO. The thought alone sent me into a panic around losing my freedom, the potential fights, the stress, the money and a zillion other questions on how they would be raised. But, as time has rolled on, and my life has taken quite a few new turns, I've realized how deeply I wish to be a mama. This might be because of my freshly-turned-30 biological clock, or because of my partner being just about the sweetest thing ever around kids. It might be the case for any number of tangible reasons, but mostly I think it's because I've vowed myself to the never ending commitment of learning to choose love over fear. And from the very, very little I know about "good parenting", I'd say this is a pretty nice place to start. In Gratitude, Trish A dramatic re-telling of last Friday, by Tricia D. Picture it: One grouchy, emotionally charged girlfriend. One man slice trying not to say the wrong things. Fog and wind. Holiday weekend.... Me: This week was no good. And it's freezing in SF. I changed my mind about being OK with staying local. I desperately want to get the eff out of this city. B: Yea, I love this city, but it is effing cold. What are you thinking? Me: Luxury. B: That sounds expensive... Me: I don't care. I NEED THIS. B (backing away slowly): OK, but we were just talking about saving money.... Me (eye twitching): Right, yea, no, yea except I don't care. One day. One day of luxury. ONEDAYOFLUXURYINTHESUN. I beg. B (a quick learner): Sounds good! And so, to Indian Springs we trekked, massage appointments made and sunscreen slathered on for a bit of mineral water poolside fun. It was precisely what the PMS doctor ordered. Side note: I normally dislike this quick and stereotypical excuse for female mood fluctuations, especially when used as an insult by a male...but in this particular case? 100% accurate. Hormone crazy brain like whoa. Men, truly, have no idea what it's like to feel this way once a month, for reasons that science or God or nature or the Universe dictates. And by "this way" I obviously mean: The facilities were beautiful, clean, and oh so peaceful at this schmancy joint. I could feel my mood shift the minute we stepped out of the car. Ahhh, luxury. How deeply you heal me. Here is how B looked, floating around like a Giorgio Armani cologne advertisement... And here's how I looked, trying to wiggle myself onto the float without falling in (for the 5th time)... This difference in "cool" is so annoying, but I'll save that breakdown for another post.
Anyway, Indian Springs rocks, and you should totally visit sometime. I will gladly go back with you, and I promise I am an absolute delight when I'm here, full moon or not :) In Gratitude, Trish Even though it has only been 8 years since graduation, college feels like forever ago for me.
Like....another lifetime kind of forever ago. This is undoubtedly because my life has so drastically changed since my days in rural State College, PA. I am no longer in touch with most of my old crew for various reasons, my college sweetheart and I (i.e. the guy that defined the majority of my collegiate dating days) split several years ago, and I quite literally live on the other side of the continent now...in a major city...with a dude I've known since my high school YMCA days. It's all so different for a plethora of entirely unexpected or predictable reasons. *I* am so different. There's no script, amirite? But there is one aspect of my PSU experience that has remained a constant in the past 8 years, that time and space have failed to deter. If I am completely honest -- it's the most important aspect to sustain. Basically (and dramatically), if my entire Penn State affiliation was going down in flames, of all other memories, contacts, connections...this would be the one to rush in and save. We shared a room for 4 years, but this gal has my heart forever. Both Cali girls now, Ashley and I enjoyed a quick weekend reunion in her adorable beach cottage located in the darling sea side town of San Clemente. There were early morning coffee talks (very early, since my old roomie cannot sleep past 6am to save her life, God bless her and God give me strength), sun and surfer filled afternoons at the shore, naps (because of said early mornings + my grandma status + God did not give me enough strength) and most importantly, one beautiful Sarah McLachlan concert at the Greek Theater in LA where everyone assumed we were "partners" and we didn't try to deny it. I am so thankful for the freedom to hop on a plane to see my dear friend; to be happy just being with this person, no matter what our days activities. To have someone to go a tiny bit nutty with while stuck in LA traffic and then find the humor in the nutty and gratitude to be stuck on a highway together. When my children head off to college someday (if they choose college, and I surely hope they do/no pressure but FOR THE GLORY!) I will say a million and one prayers the Universe has their backs in the random roommate assignment department, like it did for me. love and light and all the best Sarah lyrics (because she still sings to my angst-y teenage soul), Trish Sunshine, pool time, BBQ, and beers. Games, laughs, sparklers and...well...more beers.
My birthday weekend was spent in beautiful Sonoma with a handful of fun, generous, and loving friends who made me feel like 1.5 million bucks from start to finish. I truly felt like royalty, with my lovely, hippie girl cover up hand made by my Marm, and my sparkly tiara picked out by some favorite Weeblies. The weather was perfect, the music spot on (thanks, DJ B!), and the company simply divine. It was so much fun, in fact, that I had to take a 30 minute nap at 8pm...just like a little kid who ate too much cake and exhausted herself with giggles on her birthday. Perfection! After releasing my seemingly insatiable need to over-control every minute detail of planning, prepping, worrying about guest happiness, I was able to fully relax, play and receive. And let me tell you, the receiving was good. So good, in fact, that I'm working on a gift guide based on all of the exceptionally creative and thoughtful gifts the folks in my world bestowed upon me. There will be something for everyone, and I'm so excited to post it next week! Thank you so, so very much to all of the people who helped me celebrate. Everyone should feel so lucky and special on their birthdays. I am deeply appreciative of all the kind words, messages, hugs and general good vibes. People truly showed up for me, and I am humbled to the brink of tears (eh, what else is new) to have not only been a witness to, but a recipient of, our shared summer time joy. Oodles of Gratitude, Trish |
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