08 December 2016

Accidental Photography

#thedailylistofjoyandthanks

1. Still figuring out the kinks of blogging by phone but doing it!

2. Twilight.

3. When Tristan and I sing Jigglypuff together in harmony.

4. I read Dune!

5. Portable heater. Oh warmth, the California in me needs it.

08 November 2016

Daily Thanks on a Manic Monday

1. I'm thankful for good friends.

2. For the keyboard Tris plays with such passion.

3. That his Homeschool charter has a dance class!

4. I have been stretching daily for two months straight.

5. For structure. I need it as much as T.


07 November 2016

Daily Thanks - 6 Nov 16

The name is rather long so I'm sorting the title of these posts out. But here we go for today...

1. It was a cozy family day.

2. Bran and I watched a couple episodes of The Walking Dead season 6...we used to love it but are anti-fans now. However, their zombie makeup and such has gotten so cool!!!

3. It's like the time change didn't happen. But I'm thankful for the privacy window cling on one of front windows. I'm a total California girl and since leaving the west coast I struggle emotionally without enough sunlight in my day, even if it's just sunbeams from the window.

4. Oh! I've been cleaning my office and today it finally looked like something is happening! That's encouraging.

5. Tristan saw some smudges on the kitchen floor (I know, I saw, I was going to do it tomorrow tomorrow)...but before we knew what was happening he had his trick or treat bucket out, filled with water and mopping! He said lots of cutie little kid stuff while doing it and I was thankful to get a clip on video. Coming soon to his YouTube channel (he really wants to be a YouTuber).



06 November 2016

The Daily List of Joy and Thanks

These are daily lists of little things to be thankful for to help me notice and remember them. I have been making these lists almost every day for over 1,000 days on a few platforms. It is done in conjunction with #thedailyhoop (my daily time spent outdoors). 

With that, I'm back on Blogger with my first list [here]. 

1. I saw an old friend today who has been Born Again since the last time we hung out. 

2. This makes me SO HAPPY!!!!

3. The light of Jesus shines through her demeanor & I found time with her to be inspiring. 

4. We colored our Bibles! That was so fun!

5. Cat she gave us was mostly well behaved and rather liked her which means she left unharmed. That's a win since we had to extract her several times recently.


26 April 2016

it's not a habit...it's cool.



I know what you're going to say: I'm not an addict. This song is about drugs, not alcohol. I can stop anytime I want. Don't judge how I cope. It's not a habit. I can stop anytime. Oh, did I say that already? I really can. I'll stop now. I can go for months without drinking. It makes me so mad when people tell me I'm an alcoholic...I'm not. Nothing makes me more angry than that.

Guess what? You made me promise that I'd never coddle you. You wanted someone who'd call  "me on my sh--." Someone who wouldn't enable you by having alcohol around. Be blunt. Not treat you differently because of your looks...and on and on. I told you'd I'd always be that person...but you couldn't handle being held to those standards.

You are a binge alcoholic by definition (and so much more!): 


Binge drinking is the practice of consuming large quantities of alcohol in a single session, usually defined as five or more drinks at one time for a man, or four or more drinks at one time for a woman.


Do you see where we go off the rails here? I know they didn't specifically define it as someone who drinks bottle after bottle of cheap vodka until passing out, waking up, doing it again, and again and again until weeks have passed and every pore of you reeks and it takes weeks before you'll sober up. It's repugnant. 

You showed up here wanting to change. You wanted to be held to standards because you didn't have a problem. I realize now that my mistake was you not being able to say I am an alcoholic.

We gave you space. We nurtured a love between  you and our son. I can't put into words how far mama bear I've gone...you are hurting him. You hurt me. You hurt everyone. I am so mad. He wants to eat Sour Patch Kids every day like you. He looks up to you. 

But you LOVE alcohol.

The bottle is your family. It's who you choose to hold at night and wake up to in the morning. Not family. Not love. Not even respect.

I opened up to you...hoping you'd see some way up and out of the hole you've dug. I tried to kill myself once. For real. You know that...yet still you find it in your heart to cruelly call our home at all hours with threats of suicide shaking everyone up. If you're too drunk you have your less drunk roommate make the call for you. 

You left so you could continue manipulating people around you.

You could have built your bedroom in our home. Instead you spent a grand on furniture the day you arrived on the other side of the country...and you're still sweating cheap vodka and being pathetic as you skip even further down the rabbit hole you dug for yourself. I can't believe I dared to hope you'd change when you wound up in the hospital. Silly me.

I don't want my selfish and mean behavior to hurt anyone...

That's one of my favorite quotes ::sarcasm::

I have to sit here and watch my son's big brown eyes fill to the brim with tears and ask why you left him...why you won't come back. Why you not his friend anymore. Why water is making  you sick...

...is that why he won't drink water? That's what it looked like. We said you couldn't stop drinking. I now have the pleasure of explaining drunks and alcohol to his sweet heart. 

He still believes in you.

We all love you; we gave you what you said you needed.

But now you need to be brave.
Get it together.

We'd take you back because that is what family does, BUT not until you can say I AM an addict.
...and you get help.

11 April 2016

Let's See What a Mobile Update Can Be!

I confess I abandoned my blog because it was inconvenient. I prefer to dump my thoughts here...but I also prefer writing in bed at night. Spoiled, I know. Currently I blast them all over Instagram (my four year social media obsession)...but they'll be lost when a shinier platform appears.

I still haven't missed a single day hooping since my last post which means I'm approaching two years in my personal challenge to hoop outside every single day in sickness or health, rain or shine.

Since this is my first attempt at blogging mobile-style I will end here. ...cuz it would totally suck to have it all be deleted by a pesky glitch.

K, hi! Lots to catch up on. Bye! ::hits publish all nervous-like::

11 April 2015

#thedailyhoop Reaches 365 Days in a Row...

12 months of hooping without missing a single day.


...with no sign of stopping. I never set out with an end goal in mind. The rules were:
  • spend at least 30 minutes alone outside every day
  • hula hoop during that time
  • no excuses
  • write five positive things about my day down
The therapist I was seeing for PTSD told me it had been scientifically proven that people who spend 30 minutes or more outside every day in conjunction with keeping a gratitude list are happier people.

What would I do outside? I don't meditate nor do I meander; I walk with purpose.

Many hoopers celebrate a hoopiversary. I guess this is mine but only in the sense that I made a commitment to myself on 13 April of last year and used daily Instagram photos to hold myself accountable.

My hoop journey started many years ago with no definitive date. I hooped as a child. In college I went to the Children's Museum on Friday evenings for their $2 college kid night or whatever it was and used the hoops there. When I moved out on my own I bought a kids hoop (silly me right?) and hooped on my rooftop overlooking Central Sq in Cambridge. Then I saw a hooper perform to The Eurythmics "Love is a Stranger" at Sister Spit. This was a real hooper. I had no idea you could do those things before that.

When I moved to Virginia I was going to start something similar and do spoken word while on my rollerskates and hula hooping all at the same time. But my real job kept me very busy.

Next I moved to Portland where, older and wiser, I knew to get a Real Hoop...and so I did. It was pink and blue and sparkle just like cotton candy made by a woman down by the river. I literally ran over the bridge to pick it up while on my lunch break. I was content waist hooping though I did try with rollerskates, too. It was going to take more practice.

This hoop was the one that traveled with me and then melted behind my TV stand in our housefire. I had also hooped on the rooftop in Philly.

I lost motivation for everything after the fire. That story has been written.

It took two years before I ordered another hoop.

Now I have...many...
Like a dozen. Including Tristan's. He has two.
One even lights up.


I'm sponsored by Galaxy Hoop! URBAN10 for 10% www.galaxyhoop.com 


They all have a purpose. The others are Rose (my large, weighted hoop), Selkie the polypro, Molly who I turned into a giant dreamcatcher because she is lopsided, Alfie who was a gift from Sarah (TeachKidstoHoop.com), I have the twins as I start multiples, and then...then I met Rachel from Galaxy Hoop and became her first sponsored hooper! Now I collect beauties from her. URBAN10 for 10% your order. Yay!

Hooping makes people happy. I believe that with all of my heart which is why I was looking for a sponsor. I wanted to find a kind hoopsmith with imaginative style and listened to what her customers need. I found that in Rachel - and she found me. Quirky and quiet with a hooping agenda.

My therapist was right. I haven't seen her in a while to tell her. I remember thinking ehh, I'll humor her. I shall go out daily and write my lists because I can't say I've tried everything unless I do - then we'll see what other suggestions are up her sleeve.

...except it worked. No matter how hard a day I've had I always feel calm when I go outside to hoop. I have been sick - I had the flu. It snowed, it poured and the winds blew.

I hooped.

I use hooping to keep myself from curling into a lazy ball of pain.


Every day I'm in some level of pain from endometriosis and ovarian cysts. Exercise is said to help. My hooping was as much for that aspect as the others. I can't say it's helped with pain but it's helped me manage it better because I'm a happier person. On days when it's really bad I take my lightest hoop outside and do off-body moves; gently.

One of my thoughts going into this was that I had gotten soft. I used to ride my bike to work every day no matter the weather. Why wasn't I applying that to something else? Something fun?

There were days I didn't want to go out. I'm sure there are more to come.

My goal wasn't a year. It's just another milestone like 100, 200 and 300 days were. I will continue counting. The only thing I can see interrupting this ritual is surgery. I've already asked Rachel for a little wrist hoop...or I will twirl a bracelet around my finger...as long as I'm spinning, right?

There is another thing that makes this all harder: I have to hoop on my city porch. If I go into the front 'yard' I am too close to the sidewalk and risk hitting people. If I go to the park I am sexually harassed. I'm harassed on the porch, too, but I feel safer because I can just turn around and zip inside.

I have a gigantic audience of commuters and city life.

I remember the days where I'd dance at Manray every week up on the stage (or the cage as it was called) - an elevated platform at the front of the dance floor. There was more space up there. I had some sort of illusion that I was less visible. Invisible. It was my bubble and if I didn't acknowledge people they weren't there. I can't totally do that here. I know which angle I can see all directions from and figure my hoop is also my weapon. I swing a fast weave. 

There are also plenty of things I can practice inside because I've gotten into tricks! It was about a month before I was like OK what else can I do? and so it went. I don't think matching a year with my skill level is accurate because I'm also a wife, mother, and small business owner/artist. I have a lot on my plate; hooping isn't my life. It's part of my life.

I've always believed in balance and tried never to become too absorbed in one thing.

Besides, I just have to take a few steps forward and that will turn me into a street performer. I'm more like a sideshow now.

Hooping is good for your soul. If it can lift me up from the darkness it can help anyone. I encourage you to try it if you've been considering it. I was happy for years waist hooping. There are no expectations only personal goals.

My rewards for making it a year include:

I don't get them until the day I reach 365. I'm writing this on the eve of 364.

Portrait done as a surprise by my husband who is also an artist.


There aren't words to express how thankful I am to Brandon for supporting and encouraging me. He takes this daily routine of mine seriously and no matter what day it is he allows me time to myself (as I have with him and weightlifting). I'm proud of Tristan for taking an interest in it, too (which has been very recent).

Super duper thanks to everyone who has encouraged me along this journey. I appreciate it and hope to return the gesture - whatever your goal may be.


...and the beat goes on.

Monday will be 366 days in a row...or 1 year, 1 day. I'm not sure how I will write it down.

Resolution of happiness
Things have been dark for too long

Don't change for you
Don't change a thing, for me.
-INXS

...and for the record it hasn't felt like a year. It's just felt like joy.