"Do your thing and don’t care if they like it."
What better way to spend a Tuesday afternoon is there than with 7 four-legged friends, rolling around on the grass, enjoying the sunshine and bit of fetch, jump, tug of war? :)
Totally busted. I had to impart many minutes of back scratching and a few tasty treats to get back on her good side.
So for now, I am grateful for my time with her (and the play pals at Copper's Dream!).
And in case you doubted my sincere craving for a pal of my own, here is photographic evidence of my crazy-faced interaction/attempt to contain myself and not nibble on her sweet little precious face, or sneak her into my purse before leaving.....
I should probably work on my "I swear I'm normal and capable of not Lenny-ing my dog" face before actually applying to adopt....
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.
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...)
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.
love and light,
"Watch out for each other. Love everyone and forgive everyone, including yourself. Forgive your anger. Forgive your guilt. Your shame. Your sadness. Embrace and open up your love, your joy, your truth, and most especially your heart." - Jim Henson
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?
Boom. Here I come....
Me: Babe, I got People Magazine in the mail for some reason.
B: Oh yea, I had expiring United miles and had to pick out a magazine subscription to use some points up and keep it active, so I got you People.
Me: Whoa, what? That is so sweet, thank you! Also, what are you doing?
B: Making dinner. Thought we'd try lo mein with salmon tonight.
Me: So I get to read People while you make us a delicious dinner?
Me: HOW MANY BABIES CAN WE HAVE RIGHT NOW. I mean, cool, thanks, yea.
B: Do you want some wine?
Me: 100 BABIES. 100 BABIES WE'LL HAVE. I mean yes, please, that sounds great. Love you!
B: Love you. But sit already, you're in my way.
Just more of the norm around here...
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,