"It's been such a long time
I think I should be goin', yeah
And time doesn't wait for me, it keeps on rollin'
Sail on, on a distant highway
I've got to keep on chasin' a dream
I've gotta be on my way
Wish there was something I could say..." -Boston
With me, there's always something to say.
December 30, 2013 will mark 3,964 days that I have been a resident in the State of Maryland. And while that doesn't sound overly significant, it truly is for me. Because on day 3,965, I won't be. The chapter in my life that is officially and simply named "Maryland", will blissfully come to an end. It started on a whim and is ending like the movie Princess Bride. (Sans the horses, just some horsepower).
When I moved here, I was five days short of turning 23 years-old. I had no idea what it meant to live in a city, in an apartment or wear a suit. Wine was foreign and what the heck is Old Bay? I bumbled my way through at no short of 100mph. I moved around, found a job or three more and before I knew it found myself a mother on day 919.
1,000 days later and I had another new job, a first house and a second baby. That's how I roll as most everyone knows- just pile it all on at once that way the pain is more like pulling a hair out, versus stubbing a toe.
3,113 of my days have revolved around non-profits; a career path that no one can warn you enough about. Don't take that the wrong way. I am completely fulfilled working in this challenging field. I truly feel that I have contributed to the success of others. Philanthropy has let me grow professionally and make me want to one day give back the way that I watched my donors do selflessly, humbly, gladly. I have networked and befriended some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I have met homeless men, million dollar Annapolitans and every walk of life in between. They have all taught me a lesson.
The friends I have made in Maryland have become my family. I have a Maryland Mom, a gaggle of Chesapeake sisters, brothers and colleagues that have made me feel welcome and show me the ropes. They have been the ones that I have spent countless hours with. Without them, there would have been zero chance I would have made it this long in Maryland.
I have the pleasure to start the next chapter my life with a man who is very close to my heart. Life has a funny way of crossing paths. Ours first crossed over 15 years ago when I became best friends with his sister at a little state college in Vermont. As life moved along, so did we; both shaping and molding our lives the way we thought they should go. Like it was meant to, our lives happened to cross again. This time we knew that now, this time, was the right time to make our paths become one. He's patient, strong, funny and kind. He's willing to fight for what he knows is right. He loves my crazy. Did I mention he's patient?
So, around day 3,965 the chapter will be complete. I will load up my things, including the two most important memories of Maryland- my two precious boys, and sail off on a highway southbound to Raleigh, North Carolina to start life anew. What happens next? I'll let you know. But it will be good. Damn good.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Crack Like Dependency on my Car
I have been on the road since birth. My grandmother, whose other name was Road Warrior, held no qualms about saddling me up in the backseat of her Buick after church on a Sunday, drive up the coast or "Down East" for those who know what I mean, and visit with friends. She'd throw in some cassette tapes of people singing hymns, or a barbershop quartet and off we'd go, in search of old people and maybe a reuben sandwich from Moody's Diner in Waldoboro. She then would turn around after a few hours of visiting, return to church and return me to my mother in the evening. And before I came along, it was my mother holding down the backseat.
Nowadays, I need my car for survival. And sanity. If the car stops, so stops the nation. I started smelling what I thought was antifreeze from my car about a month ago. Instant panic ensued. Trying to find an hour to have someone look at my car is like asking me to carve out an hour of my day to read a novel by candlelight in a bubble bath. I took my chances with my really loud spoken, guitar playing neighbor Wendell's referral of "Jimmy the mobile car mechanic". The benefit is the mobility. That was the only benefit. The problem is that "Jimmy", after finally making it over to take a look, blew me off for.....ever. Awesome. My next stop was my neighbors brother who owns a shop on the local Army base in my backyard. He at least let me take his 1991 Toyota Camry to pimp around in while he spent the day only to bring it back telling me that, virtually, I'm crazy and nothing is wrong with my car.
A sigh of relief and re-confirmation that I'm nuts.
I find some sort of calm while driving. Alone. Driving while with children prevents all rational thinking from taking place. The only problem solving going on at that point is answering the 47 questions being hurtled in my direction while simutaneously opening a snack and a bottled water for someone. I drove around the country once, solo. Dozens of folks asked me why I chose to do that 10,000 mile trip alone and my one response, which I never wavered from was, "Could you think of one person in your life that you could be in a car with for three months and not want to kill them by the end of it?" That usually shuts them up for a minute as not many folks have an answer for that one.
I am at that critical point with my SUV that I truly fear a hard rain or a car wash will surely make it fall apart. If there is a clean spot anywhere inside the car, it's an anomoly; especially with two boys and me driving over 300 miles on a normal week inside the beast. I'd vacuum it, but it's about as high on the totem pole as that bath thing...
But what does one do without a car and your livelihood, motherhood, etc., depends on it and you can't trade cars with your mechanic? That is a situation I hope to not be in anytime soon; and for now, no car washes, just to be safe.
Follow my blog. Ok, please follow my blog. It'll encourage me to try to make you smile, even if I can't see you, more often.
Nowadays, I need my car for survival. And sanity. If the car stops, so stops the nation. I started smelling what I thought was antifreeze from my car about a month ago. Instant panic ensued. Trying to find an hour to have someone look at my car is like asking me to carve out an hour of my day to read a novel by candlelight in a bubble bath. I took my chances with my really loud spoken, guitar playing neighbor Wendell's referral of "Jimmy the mobile car mechanic". The benefit is the mobility. That was the only benefit. The problem is that "Jimmy", after finally making it over to take a look, blew me off for.....ever. Awesome. My next stop was my neighbors brother who owns a shop on the local Army base in my backyard. He at least let me take his 1991 Toyota Camry to pimp around in while he spent the day only to bring it back telling me that, virtually, I'm crazy and nothing is wrong with my car.
A sigh of relief and re-confirmation that I'm nuts.
I find some sort of calm while driving. Alone. Driving while with children prevents all rational thinking from taking place. The only problem solving going on at that point is answering the 47 questions being hurtled in my direction while simutaneously opening a snack and a bottled water for someone. I drove around the country once, solo. Dozens of folks asked me why I chose to do that 10,000 mile trip alone and my one response, which I never wavered from was, "Could you think of one person in your life that you could be in a car with for three months and not want to kill them by the end of it?" That usually shuts them up for a minute as not many folks have an answer for that one.
I am at that critical point with my SUV that I truly fear a hard rain or a car wash will surely make it fall apart. If there is a clean spot anywhere inside the car, it's an anomoly; especially with two boys and me driving over 300 miles on a normal week inside the beast. I'd vacuum it, but it's about as high on the totem pole as that bath thing...
But what does one do without a car and your livelihood, motherhood, etc., depends on it and you can't trade cars with your mechanic? That is a situation I hope to not be in anytime soon; and for now, no car washes, just to be safe.
Follow my blog. Ok, please follow my blog. It'll encourage me to try to make you smile, even if I can't see you, more often.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Life in Wonderland
Being a single mother of two boys and working full time is what some people refer to as insane. Me, well, it's just another day in Wonderland. Think Alice in Wonderland, where there is only a smidge of reality. Yes, there are bunnies in real life, but none that pop out of a hole in the ground and tell you to hurry and find the singing yellow spotted toad.
While some people "just don't know how I do it all", I haven't a clue how mothers stay at home and stay sane simutaneously. Seriously. I'm home for two days in a row with my kids and I'm willing the neighbors to come outside so I can "happen to take the trash out at that very moment" just to interact with someone above the height of 48".
I'm still relatively new at this gig; as far as time goes; the "honeymoon" period of single motherhood, so to speak- so under a year. Therefore, I am allowed to have nothing to eat in the fridge at a moments notice, simutaneously lose a kid and my car keys and forget to call someone back for three months (which just happened last week). While there is no written rule, I am maintaining this "honeymoon" period until at least June to get my shit in order. I'm almost there.
There are some things that I am anal about to make my weeks go by without me wanting to drown myself in the bathtub in gin.
For starters, I try to organize meals for weeks at a time so I don't come home and have to get two boys who can't find their shoes they just had on for an entire day back on so we can hit a greasy dive four nights a week. Some nights it's pork tenderloin with veggies my kids won't eat, other nights its Spaghettios. But at least it's on the list and in the house. Somewhere.
I pack their bag for their father's house when I'm doing laundry on the weekend prior so they are ready to have fun in Testoterone Land- five days in advance. I find great joy in getting that bag ready sometimes (see paragraph two).
There is a routine the boys follow. Every day. This keeps us all from not losing our shit and wondering what day it is. Homework, dinner, play, bed, bath and beyond. You get the idea.
Finally, everything goes on my work calendar. Everything. If it's not on my calendar, it doesn't exist. Want to chat with my best friend in Texas on a Wednesday night ten days from now and oh, add in the time difference and a collective of four kids (between the two of us) getting to bed and sleep on time so we can pop corks simutaneously 2,000 miles apart? It has to be on the calendar- if not, I forget to charge my cell phone, don't see the calendar reminder to call and decide to have my neighbor over for Mommy Time instead. And putting everything on my work calendar also exposes all the crap I have to remember to the rest of my office (unless I choose to make my 47 reminders "private appointments") making me look like I don't have two short term memory brain cells to rub together. Oh well, I say. My kids are dressed, my house isn't on fire and I still have time for work.
More to come from this career mom on the go. Next stops- crack like dependency on my SUV, apples and how far they fall from the proverbial tree, 1,000 questions, Evening Mommy Time (EMT), and a special guest appearance by Wendell my middle aged, guitar playing, really loud speaking, grease monkey neighbor. Stay tuned.
While some people "just don't know how I do it all", I haven't a clue how mothers stay at home and stay sane simutaneously. Seriously. I'm home for two days in a row with my kids and I'm willing the neighbors to come outside so I can "happen to take the trash out at that very moment" just to interact with someone above the height of 48".
I'm still relatively new at this gig; as far as time goes; the "honeymoon" period of single motherhood, so to speak- so under a year. Therefore, I am allowed to have nothing to eat in the fridge at a moments notice, simutaneously lose a kid and my car keys and forget to call someone back for three months (which just happened last week). While there is no written rule, I am maintaining this "honeymoon" period until at least June to get my shit in order. I'm almost there.
There are some things that I am anal about to make my weeks go by without me wanting to drown myself in the bathtub in gin.
For starters, I try to organize meals for weeks at a time so I don't come home and have to get two boys who can't find their shoes they just had on for an entire day back on so we can hit a greasy dive four nights a week. Some nights it's pork tenderloin with veggies my kids won't eat, other nights its Spaghettios. But at least it's on the list and in the house. Somewhere.
I pack their bag for their father's house when I'm doing laundry on the weekend prior so they are ready to have fun in Testoterone Land- five days in advance. I find great joy in getting that bag ready sometimes (see paragraph two).
There is a routine the boys follow. Every day. This keeps us all from not losing our shit and wondering what day it is. Homework, dinner, play, bed, bath and beyond. You get the idea.
Finally, everything goes on my work calendar. Everything. If it's not on my calendar, it doesn't exist. Want to chat with my best friend in Texas on a Wednesday night ten days from now and oh, add in the time difference and a collective of four kids (between the two of us) getting to bed and sleep on time so we can pop corks simutaneously 2,000 miles apart? It has to be on the calendar- if not, I forget to charge my cell phone, don't see the calendar reminder to call and decide to have my neighbor over for Mommy Time instead. And putting everything on my work calendar also exposes all the crap I have to remember to the rest of my office (unless I choose to make my 47 reminders "private appointments") making me look like I don't have two short term memory brain cells to rub together. Oh well, I say. My kids are dressed, my house isn't on fire and I still have time for work.
More to come from this career mom on the go. Next stops- crack like dependency on my SUV, apples and how far they fall from the proverbial tree, 1,000 questions, Evening Mommy Time (EMT), and a special guest appearance by Wendell my middle aged, guitar playing, really loud speaking, grease monkey neighbor. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Ten Years Ago Today
On October 3, 2002, I started a new volume in my life's collections of books and chapters. After packing up my 1998 Jeep Cherokee with three seasons of clothes, a battery charger, mace, maps and a cell phone, I started on my 10,000 mile, 33 state trek across the United States.
I drove across the Humming Bridge in Georgetown with Kid Rock's latest album cranking in my CD player and headed north to party like a college kid in Orono. Then south a bit to play horseshoes in the back yard of my best friend's family's home in Farmington, Maine. Then I was off and running westbound.
In my journey, I learned so much about our country and myself in those days and weeks on the road. I learned how to drink wine in New York. I felt the mist of Niagara Falls on my face in Canada. I went on my first blind date and to a NHL hockey game on the same day in Detroit. I ate buffalo, met my first buffalo in person (not one in the same, I assure you) and saw the magintude of what men can accomplish on a mountain side at Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse in South Dakota. I found the Pacific Ocean in Seattle and watched the sun set over an ocean for the first time in San Diego and walked along the Hollywood stars. I learned what 7,000 feet above sea level looks while looking into the Grand Canyon and how magnificent the plateaus are in Santa Fe. I stood in the basement of the building, now memorial, of the Oklahoma City bombing and was served cornbread stuffing for the first time by Big Mama and her boys while on a pitstop for an oil change and photo developing in Alexandria, Louisana. And just as I found the elevation at the Canyon, I drove below sea level and ate crawfish in New Orleans. I looked out at where the first shot was fired on the coast of Charleston and mosied my way up to Laurel, Maryland in time to watch a little football with some guys who's mancave and bar rivaled any spot in town.
Ten years later, the world has changed. My universe has swelled with a plethora of great individuals and experiences that, when sitting in the drivers seat of my Jeep ten years ago today, I didn't know existed nor could fathom how they would change my life. I am confident that every single one of my stops along the road don't look anything like the way I have them postcarded in my brain. But that's alright. Change is good. I wouldn't trade away a minute of that trip, because without it, I wouldn't be who I am, where I am, what I am today.
I drove across the Humming Bridge in Georgetown with Kid Rock's latest album cranking in my CD player and headed north to party like a college kid in Orono. Then south a bit to play horseshoes in the back yard of my best friend's family's home in Farmington, Maine. Then I was off and running westbound.
In my journey, I learned so much about our country and myself in those days and weeks on the road. I learned how to drink wine in New York. I felt the mist of Niagara Falls on my face in Canada. I went on my first blind date and to a NHL hockey game on the same day in Detroit. I ate buffalo, met my first buffalo in person (not one in the same, I assure you) and saw the magintude of what men can accomplish on a mountain side at Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse in South Dakota. I found the Pacific Ocean in Seattle and watched the sun set over an ocean for the first time in San Diego and walked along the Hollywood stars. I learned what 7,000 feet above sea level looks while looking into the Grand Canyon and how magnificent the plateaus are in Santa Fe. I stood in the basement of the building, now memorial, of the Oklahoma City bombing and was served cornbread stuffing for the first time by Big Mama and her boys while on a pitstop for an oil change and photo developing in Alexandria, Louisana. And just as I found the elevation at the Canyon, I drove below sea level and ate crawfish in New Orleans. I looked out at where the first shot was fired on the coast of Charleston and mosied my way up to Laurel, Maryland in time to watch a little football with some guys who's mancave and bar rivaled any spot in town.
Ten years later, the world has changed. My universe has swelled with a plethora of great individuals and experiences that, when sitting in the drivers seat of my Jeep ten years ago today, I didn't know existed nor could fathom how they would change my life. I am confident that every single one of my stops along the road don't look anything like the way I have them postcarded in my brain. But that's alright. Change is good. I wouldn't trade away a minute of that trip, because without it, I wouldn't be who I am, where I am, what I am today.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
I Really Suck at This Game..
It seems like I am averaging about a blog post every six months. And every time I say, "Oh, I'll get better at posting,"- Yeh, okay. I suck at this game.
There has been a bit of change going on in my life over the last six or seven months. I can thankfully say that things have changed for the positive and it has been a long time since I have truly been this happy. With work, life, health and family all in a good place, what negative there is left doesn't have too much space to roam or annoy me.
I am learning how to re-balance my life; which hasn't been quite as difficult as I thought. I have been reconnecting with some very special people in my life lately and realizing how great, and patient, they are with me-and not to mention how much they love who I am. "It feels so great to hear you giggle on the phone again," my best friend said to me the other day. I like to hear myself giggle too- it feels great.
As I start on the next chapter, page by page, of my life, I look forward to laughing early and often, being around people that love me unconditionally, never compromising or settling for what isn't what I really want and just being me. Happy, chatty me.
There has been a bit of change going on in my life over the last six or seven months. I can thankfully say that things have changed for the positive and it has been a long time since I have truly been this happy. With work, life, health and family all in a good place, what negative there is left doesn't have too much space to roam or annoy me.
I am learning how to re-balance my life; which hasn't been quite as difficult as I thought. I have been reconnecting with some very special people in my life lately and realizing how great, and patient, they are with me-and not to mention how much they love who I am. "It feels so great to hear you giggle on the phone again," my best friend said to me the other day. I like to hear myself giggle too- it feels great.
As I start on the next chapter, page by page, of my life, I look forward to laughing early and often, being around people that love me unconditionally, never compromising or settling for what isn't what I really want and just being me. Happy, chatty me.
Friday, December 2, 2011
He Was A Simple Man
The song, "Simple Man," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, resonates deep with me this week. Once upon a time, I went and saw what was then the remnants of Lynyrd Skynyrd, three, yes, three times, in concert. Leon was the only surviving, original member of the band. I met him once- in Bangor, Maine. He put his arm around me and escorted me to the bar, where my friends awaited me, including my boyfriend, Sam. I bought Leon a drink (while my friends agreed he should have bought one for me). It was a moment I will never forget.
I will also never forget that night hearing my hotel room door being virtually banged down by an irate, sleepy and embarrassed Sam, who, in his sleeping stupor, had walked out of our room, and found himself in nothing but his boxers, at the front desk trying to figure out what room were were in, at about four in the morning.
Leon died about two weeks later while on tour with the band, in Miami. It was a true end of an era. I felt fortunate that I had the opportunity to tell him how much I appreciated the band, their lyrics and that nearly every song could still be rocked out to twenty years after they had penned them all.
Sam was an only child, born to hippies who taught him the way of the earth. They taught him that being simple and true to one's self was best. Life was not about how much you had, but how much you appreciated everything around you. After his parents split, his taste for relationships were not pleasant, or at least the thought of marriage. "All marriages fail," he would tell me on many an occasion- usually when the topic of "what's next" would come up. "Why can't we just be simple and live together and love each other?"
And so we did. For a long time. He was my simple man.
Time passed. And so did our relationship- the way of the tide- a tide that never did come back in. After a long time of questioning, late night phone calls, tears and then healing- we became friends again. I was happy and away from the environment we called our home. He had conquered his demons and had moved on to the other coast to start anew.
"It's so nice to have a civil conversation with you, Lisa. I am glad we are friends."
"Me too. I am so proud of you, Sam. I never lost faith in you. You are the most driven man I know. You work so hard. Keep setting your mind to the next mountain to conquer and you'll be happy. You are my friend and always will be. Call me whenever you don't think you can conquer what ever it is. I am here for you. I know you better than anyone else on this earth."
He never called.
After I received the news this week that he had passed away, I was devastated.
I found my pictures of him. Pictures when we were living and loving together. Camping, canoeing in Northern Maine. On his boat. Playing with our dog, Micah. I thought of Sam in his happy places in life. That is where my memories of him will remain.
It is my hope to all that knew him- through the good, the bad, the ugly and the goofy, find that time in your life that you loved him most. And keep those memories vivid.
I will also never forget that night hearing my hotel room door being virtually banged down by an irate, sleepy and embarrassed Sam, who, in his sleeping stupor, had walked out of our room, and found himself in nothing but his boxers, at the front desk trying to figure out what room were were in, at about four in the morning.
Leon died about two weeks later while on tour with the band, in Miami. It was a true end of an era. I felt fortunate that I had the opportunity to tell him how much I appreciated the band, their lyrics and that nearly every song could still be rocked out to twenty years after they had penned them all.
Sam was an only child, born to hippies who taught him the way of the earth. They taught him that being simple and true to one's self was best. Life was not about how much you had, but how much you appreciated everything around you. After his parents split, his taste for relationships were not pleasant, or at least the thought of marriage. "All marriages fail," he would tell me on many an occasion- usually when the topic of "what's next" would come up. "Why can't we just be simple and live together and love each other?"
And so we did. For a long time. He was my simple man.
Time passed. And so did our relationship- the way of the tide- a tide that never did come back in. After a long time of questioning, late night phone calls, tears and then healing- we became friends again. I was happy and away from the environment we called our home. He had conquered his demons and had moved on to the other coast to start anew.
"It's so nice to have a civil conversation with you, Lisa. I am glad we are friends."
"Me too. I am so proud of you, Sam. I never lost faith in you. You are the most driven man I know. You work so hard. Keep setting your mind to the next mountain to conquer and you'll be happy. You are my friend and always will be. Call me whenever you don't think you can conquer what ever it is. I am here for you. I know you better than anyone else on this earth."
He never called.
After I received the news this week that he had passed away, I was devastated.
I found my pictures of him. Pictures when we were living and loving together. Camping, canoeing in Northern Maine. On his boat. Playing with our dog, Micah. I thought of Sam in his happy places in life. That is where my memories of him will remain.
It is my hope to all that knew him- through the good, the bad, the ugly and the goofy, find that time in your life that you loved him most. And keep those memories vivid.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Orange, Tombstone and Vodka- Who are You?
As expected, I survived the Gala. And made some great new friends in the process, and became closer with a few more. That, is what got me through it all, I do believe.
I had a reality check today when someone said to me, "So, what do you like? Tell me about yourself." I was stumped. Of course, things came to my mind, but not without prodding by the one asking. I walked away from that situation, thinking to myself- "Shit, what do I like? Who am I? What is there to tell outside of "working mother of two, from Maine, enjoy fundraising, ... blah-blah - blah- bleck!!!"
Of course, this caused pause for me all afternoon with great jolts of "who I am" coming to me long after that conversation- on top of feeling like a complete idiot for not being able to articulate like an adult at the appropriate time. For that, I owe a few people this monologue:
I love musicals- Evita is my favorite. I have only seen it once, but it makes me cry and I sound damn good as Eva Peron. One day I will play her on stage- even if it's a puppet stage.
My eyes and that smile of mine are my best features.
I love laughing until I cry and then giggling about what made me laugh until I cried for a few days after that.
I like walking in the woods and taking photos. I used to have my own dark room and a camera that never left my side.
Tombstone is one of my favorite movies of all time- next to Ya Ya Sisterhood, and Fletch. Val when he looked good, Sandra as the defiant daughter and Chevy because he reminds me of my Dad because he introduced me to that movie over and over and over again.
I could go on any floating vessel and be content- all day long.
I am addicted to bagels and cream cheese. I don't care if the doc says I can't have gluten, I will suffer the consequences for that round piece of toasted heaven.
My favorite place on Earth is Sagadahoc Bay, in Georgetown, Maine. Not because it's home, but it's my place of sanctity, sanity, and peace.
My favorite color is orange. It reminds me of a sunset, or a...
sunflower which is my favorite flower- paired with any flower that has hues of red, orange and yellow.
To me, sea shanty/folk music ranks nearly as high as Alternative when alternative was cool.
My favorite holiday is Halloween. I don't have to wrap presents, barbecue or bake and I can be someone not myself for an entire day.
I have a girl crush on Adele and Alanis Morrisette.
I'm not big into shopping- unless it's for shoes.
I'm not a girly-girl, unless you make me be. Much preferred to be in flip-flops, t shirt and jeans.
I firmly believe that everyone should be entitled to have a drink and a smoke whenever they feel like it without criticism.
I also believe that everyone should freely be able to have a child of their own and everyone should be able to choose whether to have a child or not, freely.
Coffee, wine and vodka are my beverages of choice.
I despise water but I still drink it.
I could eat Mexican three to six meals per day uninterrupted for an indefinite amount of time.
I believe that children should tune to your schedule and go to bed early. Everyone needs their rest.
I would rather give away everything I have if it makes me, and someone else, a happier people on the planet.
More to come...
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